The Meaning Of Death
by Lightsaberss
Summary: Riza Hawkeye was presumed dead after the events of the Promised Day, but two years later things aren't quite what they seem. AU.
1. Chapter 1

The rain was cold and relentless, and she was running.

Her mind was blank, and she was running as if she knew the streets. Running as fast as she could, running so fast that her chest hurt and her legs ached. She didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Not until there was silence behind her, and she could still hear footsteps and shouts, so she had to keep going. Had to keep running. She'd run until she bled, until the floor was smeared with vomit, if she had to. She wasn't going back. She'd die first.

No. She wouldn't. Something nagged her, she wasn't _allowed_ to die. She'd clung to that thought through beatings, bright lights, injections, through pain and distress. She didn't know what it meant anymore, but she knew it was something she wasn't allowed to do. So she kept running.

Captain Jean Havoc could think of a million things he'd rather be doing than going to pick up Brigadier General Roy 'I've fallen into a whiskey bottle and I can't get out. Again' Mustang, but somebody had to. Breda had drawn the short straw last time, and Fuery was on a date with a nerdy chick from accounts, so while he had better things to do, it was him or no one. Well, maybe Becca, but that normally lead to bitter screaming matches in the middle of the street, and Havoc wanted that even _less_.

He couldn't blame the man, not really. They'd gotten their bodies back in working order, they'd saved the country, and Ishval was being rebuilt back to it's former glory, but the cost had been high, and they all felt it like a bitter ache in their chests. The General though, he'd been a broken man ever since they'd been given the news. Sure, he worked hard, but Havoc couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the man crack a smile when he wasn't Acting The Part, or whatever it was _she'd_ called it.

The she in question; Riza Hawkeye, had died two years ago, and nothing had been the same since.

Havoc was lost in thoughts, about Riza, the General, Rebecca, and their grief, when a terrified and bloodied woman run into traffic, causing him to slam on the breaks. Hard.

She stared at him. He stared back.

Long blonde hair was plastered to her face, and her clothes (they looked like surgical scrubs, Havoc thought) were soaked through to the point where they were clinging to her body. There were bruises on her face and arms, and she was splattered in blood, but there was no mistaking those impossibly wide brown eyes.

Riza Hawkeye. The woman who had died on the Promised Day, was alive, and staring at him.

"What the fuck?" He muttered, before opening the car door, and stepping out into the cold rain. How long had she been out in this? She must be freezing.

"Riza?!" He asked.

"Who?" She asked. "Please, I need help. There's… I can't explain, but please?"

There were so many things wrong with this scenario, and if it got him killed then he hoped Rebecca wouldn't hold it against him. He couldn't leave her here though, not when every sense was screaming at him that this was his friend - his sister in arms. Even if it was something else, they'd need to get to the bottom of it.

"Get in." Havoc said, and got back in behind the wheel as she jumped into the passenger seat.

"Drive." She ordered, and okay, the evidence that this was Riza just kept adding up. She used the same tone when giving orders, that's for sure. Still, he did what she asked, and he drove.

The tall man was silent, and for some reason it bothered her. Like he should be chatting, or at least asking her questions. It wasn't normal for women to run out into traffic like that, was it? But something kept him silent, kept his thoughts from becoming questions that she didn't even want to answer, and it was annoying. Still, she was grateful that he was driving her away, and he'd even put the heating on when she'd started to shiver.

"Thank you." She said, eventually. After the silence became too much, and looked far too relieved that she'd started to speak. This was his car, he could've started the damn conversation if he wanted to.

"No problem." He said. "So. What happened?"

Blood. Screaming. Fire. She didn't know what she'd done, not well enough to explain it to a stranger that didn't sound crazy.

"I escaped." She said, as if that was an explanation, which she knew it wasn't.

"Well. No offence, but I can see that." He said. "Fuck, Hawkeye, we thought you were dead, and then you just run out into traffic like that. What the fuck is going on?"

Hawkeye? And what had he called her before, was it _Riza_? It felt alien, but she mouthed the names to try to get a taste for them, to see if saying them felt familiar, but it didn't. It felt hollow and strange, like the name of a person she'd never met before.

"I don't know…" She said. She didn't know him, she didn't know who this Riza Hawkeye person was. All she knew was the bright lights, and the pain that had been her constant companion for what felt like her life. "I don't know anything."

"Right. Okay. Right." He said. "We're going to get this sorted."

"We?" She asked. "And why? And who is this Riza person? And who are you?"

"That's a lot of questions," He said. "Right. Fine, it's fair, this whole situation is fucking weird anyway-"

Well. She couldn't argue with that.

"Okay, I'm Jean Havoc. Riza Hawkeye - who looked exactly like you - was my colleague." He - Jean - said.

"Colleague?"

"Yeah." He said. "We were in the military - well, I still am - but she died a couple of years ago. Which is why you looking like her is pretty fucking weird -"

"I'm not dead." She said, quietly.

She wasn't dead. She'd clung to life, sometimes with the tips of her fingernails digging into it, holding onto it out of desperation, and she couldn't remember why she'd been so desperate to keep living, other than she didn't want to die.

"I'm not allowed to die." She said, her voice still quiet.

Jean slammed on the breaks, and stared at her in surprise. "What did you say?"

"I - why did you stop?"

"What did you just say?" He repeated.

"I'm not allowed to die." She said, her voice stronger this time and she stared at him defiantly, as if he was one of the people from the lab. One of the people that wouldn't break her - but had they broken her? Had she just forgotten?

"This is so fucked." Was all he had to say, and he started driving again.

He didn't answer anymore of her questions.

Rebecca Catalina was actually used to being dragged out of bed in the early hours of the morning by Jean Havoc, but those phone calls were normally a lot more What Are You Wearing? And a lot less Come To This Safe House And Bring Extra Clothes And A First Aid Kit And Don't Tell Mustang But Oh Shit Someone Needs To Pick Him Up. If this turned out to be some sort of weird sex thing, she was so going to punch him.

Grabbing the duffle bag from the back seat, she made her way to the front door and knocked. The rain still hadn't let up, and she pouted as her curly hair started to get wet. She was holding the bag over her head when Jean opened it, and whatever snarky comment was about to come out of her mouth without thinking died right there on her tongue.

"What is it?" She asked, softly. He never looked this worried, that was normally more Breda's thing. At least it had been since… but she didn't want to think about it. "Is it the General, has he done something stupid?"

"It's not Mustang." He pulled her into one of the rooms off the hallway and closed the door. Okay. Weird.

"So what is it? Did Breda get the idiot home safe?" Rebecca asked.

"Yeah." He said. "Look. This is going to sound crazy, and believe me, I _know_ , but I was driving to pick him up from Madame Christmas's and this woman ran out in front of me and I swear it's Riza."

Rebecca felt like her mind had stopped. The duffle bag fell from her hand onto the floor with a thud and she stared at it. Was that why he needed the clothes? The first aid kit? Was that why they were here? Was Riza here?

"That's… where is she?" Rebecca asked. "I want to see her, Jean."

"Upstairs. She wanted a shower, and she was pretty bloodied up. She didn't tell me what happened but…" Jean shrugged. "Look, Becca, she doesn't remember anything. Not her name, not me, and I mentioned you and… nothing."

The amount of terrible things that could've happened to cause that would've been overwhelming if Rebecca let herself think of them, but she blocked them out and blinked back the tears that were stinging her eyes. She couldn't fall apart. She _wouldn't_ fall apart. If it was her, Riza would keep it together.

"Is that why you called me instead of him?" She accused.

"No. Well. Partly." Jean admitted. "I just think right now she needs someone to patch her up and… be a friend. The General drunk off his ass isn't who we need right now."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, a drunk Mustang was the last thing any of them needed. She picked up the duffle bag and walked up the stairs and knocked on the bathroom door.

"You decent?"

"Um, sure."

It was Riza, sitting on the edge of the tub and wrapped in a towel. A little skinnier, a little more bruised, and some of those scars hadn't been there before, but it was Riza. Rebecca had to physically restrain herself from launching herself at her best friend. Instead she just tried to smile as warmly as possible, and hoped it wasn't coming across like a crazy maniac smile.

"Do you remember me?" Rebecca closed the door behind her with a click and got out the first aid kit.

"No. Sorry. I don't remember Jean either." Okay, Riza calling him anything other than Havoc, that was going to take some getting used to.

"I'm Rebecca, we went to the Academy together." She explained. As if that scratched the surface of their friendship together, the late nights complaining about men, the shopping trips, the bottles of wine and Xingese food they'd consumed by the bucket. "We were friends."

"Oh." Riza said.

"Hey, don't feel bad about it." Rebecca said, and she took Riza's hands in hers. Her fingers her calloused and her knuckles were bruised. Had she fought her way out of somewhere? "Do you remember anything?"

Rebecca rubbed antiseptic lotion over the grazes, and gently inspected her friend's arms, legs and feet for any other cuts. Where she found them, she cleaned them gently, and she listened as Riza started to speak.

"An old house. A man locked behind a door. A boy with black hair. A library. Needles. Sand. Fire. Guns. A dog. A storm. A metal man. And I'm not allowed to die." She listed quietly. Rebecca stared at the floor for a moment, trying to piece it together and also trying not to burst into tears.

"That's something." Rebecca said. "Or at least it's a start. We can help you put it together and get your memories back."

Riza nodded, and pulled the towel around herself tighter. "I was held in a lab." She offered. "I could probably find it again."

Rebecca stared at her, she hadn't even thought about going after the bastards that did this. She'd been thinking about getting her friend back, not sending the fuckers to hell for turning her best friend into a person that looked at her like a stranger. "Good." Rebecca said. "We'll find them, and make them pay for this. But first, let's check your back for injuries."

The fact that Riza had a tattoo on her back wasn't a surprise, Rebecca had seen hints of it over the years, and she'd stopped buying the whole 'scars from Ishval' excuse for avoiding backless dresses about six months after she came back. This, however, was not what Rebecca was expecting. The blood red ink, and burn scars, there was a story here that Riza couldn't tell her, a part of her life permanently etched onto her skin that she had forgotten.

Mustang probably knew about it. She'd seen that symbol on his gloves enough times to know what it meant.

"Do you know what it means?" Riza asked. "The tattoo. I saw it in the mirror but I don't remember. Obviously."

"You never told me about it. It was something private," Rebecca answered honestly. "But Mustang might know."

"Mustang?"

"General Whatever. He was your superior and you guys had a weird history." Rebecca said.

"Right." Riza frowned. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Oh, uh, sure." Rebecca said, and dragged her eyes away from the flame alchemy array on Riza's back. "There are clothes in the duffle bag. Come downstairs when you're ready and we'll have food."

Rebecca left the room feeling more confused than she had when she went in. It looked like Riza, sounded like her, but she never thought she'd live in a world where Riza Hawkeye didn't know who General Mustang was. She'd never been his biggest fan, but that - more than anything else - proved to her how serious this was.

Riza might be back, but without her memories who was she? And where had she been?


	2. Chapter 2

"How was he last night?" Havoc asked.

Breda and Fuery had arrived at the safe house, pissed off, tired, and desperate for a coffee, which Rebecca had happily supplied them with. It took a while to explain what had happened, and to answer all their questions, most of which Havoc didn't have the faintest idea how to even begin answering. Where had she been, what had happened, who had taken her in the first place, not to mention why the hell couldn't she remember anything? All Havoc knew was where he'd picked her up, and it wasn't a lot to go on as far as answering those questions went.

Once they'd realised just how little they knew about what had brought her back into their lives, they moved on to tackling the other big question that was hanging over them. Just how they were going to tell The General about this. He'd taken her disappearance and death the worst out of all of them, he was even worse than Rebecca who Havoc swore had just cried and drank her way through the first six months of her being gone.

With Mustang, it had been a different kind of grief, one that cut so deep it was constantly there written on his face and in his body language. He hadn't uttered her name since her memorial service - there hadn't been a body, but there had been so many missing bodies on the Promised Day that they didn't question it as much as they should've - but Hawkeye had been there in everything he did. She was in the bottom of every Whiskey bottle, in the heart of every decision, and her death had been the root of every poor choice he'd made in the last two years.

How were they going to tell him that she was alive? That they'd all given up on her too quickly. That they should've kept looking, searching, investigating, until they'd found her. Maybe they would've had a completely different scenario on their hands if they'd just believed a little more strongly that she was out there somewhere, instead of dead in a pile of rubble.

"Not great, but I've seen him worse." Breda said. "We should just tell him. Straight out."

"I'm not sure he'll believe us if we just tell him," Rebecca said. "Get him to come here, and get him to bring Hayate. Riza said she remembered a dog, might be the cute little pooch."

"She remembers Hayate?" Havoc asked, surprised.

"Well. I asked her if she could remember anything and she said a whole bunch of random stuff, just words, really. Mentioned a dog." Rebecca shrugged. "There was nothing about who she was, where she'd been. I've just been trying to figure out what it all means."

"Right." Havoc nodded. "Fuery, Breda, why don't you guys head back to the office and at least pretend things are business as normal? And try to get the Promised Day files out, if you can. We need to figure out what the fuck we missed."

Sunlight drifted through the blinds, and Riza lifted her hand up and let the beams of light shine over her fingers. There were so many things she didn't know, but these people wanted to help her. She trusted her instincts that called these people safe, the instincts that let her sleep in another woman's clothes, curled up in an unfamiliar place. Realistically it was either this, or running through the streets scared and alone. This felt better. Until she had a reason to run, she'd stick with these people.

"Riza Hawkeye." She muttered to herself, sounding the words on her tongue. She tried to make it sound familiar, as if it was something she'd respond to without hesitation. "Riza, Riza, Riza… Ugh."

Her arms flopped back down and covered her eyes. Her name didn't feel more familiar this morning. It was still as foreign to her ears as it had been last night, regardless of what Jean and Rebecca had told her.

 _"What?!"_ The loud exclamation, from a voice she didn't recognise, made Riza sit up in bed. If there was a follow up, it wasn't loud enough to reach her upstairs through the closed door. She sat still for a moment, perched on the edge of the bed, she knew that she could stay there and whatever it was that was going on downstairs would eventually come to her door, or she could go and confront it herself.

Riza Hawkeye stood up, and opened the door to the room, and stepped out to confront whatever it was that was waiting for her downstairs. She walked down the stairs quietly, and Jean and Rebecca were too involved in their argument with the stranger to notice her arrival.

It was the dog that sold her out, suddenly barking loudly and running straight for her. Riza couldn't remember much about her life, but this little dog was one of the few things, and she got down on her knees and opened her arms. She couldn't remember his name, or the life they might've shared together, but she remembered his fur, and his bark, and Riza couldn't help but laugh for joy as the dog jumped all over her and licked her face.

It was the first familiar thing she'd ever seen.

"Hi boy, hi." She said in a soft voice. "What's your name, huh?"

"Black Hayate." The stranger said, and for the first time she looked up at him. He was handsome, messy dark hair and almond shaped eyes that were staring at her. "The dog's name is Black Hayate."

He was staring at her like she was a miracle come to life; mysterious, wonderful and terrible all at once. Like he'd never seen anything like her before, or like she was a dream come to life to stand in front of him as a form of beautiful torment. Jean and Rebecca were both staring at him with worried looks on their faces, and maybe that should have scared her, but it didn't. This man, whoever he was, didn't scare her at all.

"Thank you," Riza said politely, and stood up. Black Hayate jumped up at her knees and she smiled at him before commanding him to sit, which he did obediently. "Do I know you too?"

"Ouch." Jean muttered, which caused Rebecca to elbow him in the ribs. Riza was beginning to like Rebecca.

"We'll leave you two alone," Rebecca said. "Riza, if he gets to be Too Much, just shout, okay?"

"Uh, okay?" Riza said, confused, but thankful that she didn't need to have another awkward conversation in front of an audience. They were bad enough when she was alone with the person.

He looked lost for words once they were left alone in the small living room. "I never thought…" He said, and took a step towards her, but awkwardly stopped before he got any closer. Riza didn't take her eyes off his face, trying to read whatever it was he was trying to say without saying it, but she couldn't. She had no idea who this man was.

"I'm Roy Mustang," He offered her his hand, and she walked towards him and took it. It was warm, and he gripped a little harder than her grazed knuckles would have liked, but she didn't wince, or rub her hand once he let it go. "I think we've got a lot to talk about."

"Oh, you're the Mustang that Rebecca mentioned, I take it?" Riza asked, before he had the chance to bring up a topic of conversation himself.

"G _reat_ , what did she say?" He asked, he was obviously not thrilled that Rebecca had been talking about him.

"Just that you might know something about my tattoo." Riza said. "Obviously, I have no idea what it means, and she thought you would."

"Your tattoo?" He asked weakly.

"On my back." Riza said, and tried to keep her tone gentle. Whatever his plans had been for this conversation, whatever he had wanted to tell her about himself or who she was, it obviously had nothing to do with the markings on her back. "Do you know what it means?"

Roy looked like he had no idea how to answer the question, and he sunk down into one of the armchairs and covered his face with his hands. "Why did you have to ask me that?" He asked, and it was like he was talking to himself, as if she wasn't even in the room. "Of all the questions about us, why that one?"

"Because it's permanently etched into _my_ back," Riza spat out, annoyed at him. How dare he act like this question was an inconvenience to him? "And I don't know what it means, or how it got there. I don't even remember own _name_ , or _anything_. The least you can do is tell me about this."

Roy's head snapped up to look at her, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him her best look of annoyance. Maybe the Riza Hawkeye he knew would've been kinder, or more patient with him, maybe she would've touched his shoulder, or maybe she would've kissed him and reassured him that she was alright, that she was here. She didn't know what _that_ Riza Hawkeye would've done in this situation, she just wanted to know who she was.

"Please, Roy," Riza said, although there was still an edge to her voice. "I don't know who I am, and I need your help."

"It's flame alchemy." Roy said, slowly, like he was thinking over every single word before he said it. He looked at her hands as he spoke, but she let him take his time, and sat down on the battered couch and just waited for him to speak. "Your father was my alchemy teacher, it's how we met. We were only children, really. Teenagers. You were away at boarding school for most of it, your father used my tuition fees to pay yours, I think. He wasn't always bad man, Riza, but he was troubled and he spiralled out of control after I left and joined the military."

"What does this-"

"It's context," He explained. "I came back to visit when your father died. I wanted his research, I was stupid and idealistic, and more than anything, I was ambitious. I thought flame alchemy would be enough to get me a State Alchemist's license so I begged him for it just before he died, and he told me he'd given it to you." He paused and finally looked up at her. "You understand, don't you? That tattoo is your father's research. He put it there because he trusted you, and you gave me its secrets because you trusted me."

"And the burns?" Riza asked, quietly, unsure that she even wanted the answer after that. A father she didn't remember had done that to her, she couldn't remember the pain, but it must have hurt. Did she love her father that much? To go through agony for him and research that she now didn't understand, if she ever did. Or did she do it out of duty to a man who helped give her life? Why did answers come with so many more questions?

"After Ishval - it was a war, a horrific war, you asked me to burn it off so there would never be another Flame Alchemist," Roy said. "So that there would never be another alchemist like me."

"Why did I do that?" She asked.

"Riza, please, don't ask me to explain Ishval to you. Not today." Roy begged. "Please."

"Okay." It wasn't a satisfactory answer, but she didn't want to cause him more harm than she thought she already had. Maybe Rebecca would have answers about that, or maybe she'd have to find the answers on her own. "Thank you, Roy."

He was going to throw up. Not right this second, but at some point today he was going to accept what all his senses were telling him, and he wasn't going to be able to physically handle it. Roy ignored Havoc and Rebecca's concern, the same way he'd been ignoring it for two years, and went straight for the phone and dialled the familiar number.

"Rockbell Automail." It wasn't the person he was looking for, but it was close enough.

"Winry, it's General Mustang, is he there?"

"Oh, hi General!" She said cheerfully. "No, I've just got back from seeing him off. He'll be passing through East City in a couple of hours though, and he's meeting Al so if you're lucky you might be able to catch him there."

"Thanks, Winry."

Roy didn't want to talk to Fullmetal, their last conversation in person had come to blows and it was Breda's intervention that had stopped it from getting out of hand, but there was no one else that Roy knew and trusted enough to ask about human transmutation. He needed to know for a fact that it was Riza sitting in the living room cuddling Black Hayate, and not something else.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry, what the fuck did you just ask?" Edward asked.

He and Al had just arrived. Ed was fresh of the train from Resembool and he'd arrived in East City giddy with happiness (not that he'd admit it out loud, it was more of an internal giddyness) about Winry offering him her entire - well, eighty percent - of her life in exchange for his. He'd also been looking forward to seeing Al before they went their separate ways to the other ends of the country, and beyond. That happiness had crashed around him when he'd spotted First Lieutenant Breda.

Half an hour later, he and Al, who they'd picked up on the way, had been filled in on the situation, and he was now sitting opposite General Mustang while Al did the people person thing with Hawkeye in the living room.

Hawkeye. In the living room. Ed wasn't about to get over that any time soon.

"Human transmutation," Mustang repeated. "Are you sure it's not possible?"

Ed felt the palm of his hand itch, and he curled it into a fist. He just had to count to ten in his head, remember that Mustang had always been so fucking _stupid_ about Hawkeye, and that punching him would only be temporarily satisfying. It'd also make Al pissed, and Ed didn't want to deal with a lecture from his younger brother, not over this anyway because it just wasn't worth it.

It wasn't even the question Mustang wanted to ask. He wanted to ask if it was possible to bring someone back from the dead. He just couldn't bring himself to say it.

"You can't use alchemy to bring the dead back to life, Mustang." Ed said. "Trust me, we tried and look where that got me and Al." As if to prove the point, Ed wrapped his knuckles against his automail leg.

"And Mrs. Curtis?"

"Wha- oh, I forgot you met her," Ed said. "She didn't do it either. Whatever we made, it wasn't the people we wanted."

"So it's really her?" Mustang asked, his voice tinged with hope. "It's not something else?"

Ed had seen too much to discount the possibility that it could be something else. He'd battled homunculi, he'd punched Father-God in the face, he'd travelled around most of Amestris and seen the craziest shit that no one would believe if they hadn't been there.

"Envy could shapeshift, but we saw him die," Ed pointed out. "I don't know that this isn't some other crazy shit, considering our lives are full of it. But sometimes the obvious solution is the one to go with. Alchemy can't bring the dead back to life, Mustang. Just take my word on that, will you?"

Ed's explanation came out more like a grumble, a complaint that he had to repeat himself. It was Mustang's reaction, the flicker of emotional pain that was so clear even Ed could see it that made Ed immediately want to take it back and say it gentler, nicer. Even Mustang didn't deserve to be kicked when he was down. Ed knew what it was like, the relief that things could've been worse, and the guilt and torment that things had still been horrific.

Al had lost his body, but been sealed into armor so he didn't _die_.

They'd brought something back, but it wasn't their mother. At least they hadn't _killed_ her.

Hawkeye had been taken, and she'd lost her memory. At least she was _alive_.

Yeah, Ed knew what that felt like. It felt like complete and utter _shit_ , and that was putting it mildly.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked, silently pleading for Mustang to just get his shit together. "I presume you have some sort of plan?"

Mustang took a deep breath, and sat up straight, his face a mask. It was something, a step in a direction, at least. Time would tell if it was the right one or not.

"We know where she ran into Havoc's car. If she can retrace her steps then we might be able to find where she was being held. It's a longshot that there will be anything, or anyone, there, but it's our first major lead." Mustang said. "Fuery and Breda are going over the Promised Day files to find what we missed, if there's anything there. It's a shame Falman went back to Briggs, we could use his mind right now."

"And what about her?" Ed asked, jabbing his head in the direction of the living room so Mustang knew exactly who he was talking about.

"I'll ask Lieutenant Catalina to get her some medical attention, and see what they have to say about her amnesia." Mustang said. "After that, we'll figure it out."

"Just don't do anything fucking stupid."

"I could say the same to you, Fullmetal."

Ed scrunched his face up at the use of his _former_ Alchemist title. "Yeah, whatever, old timer. I never do anything stupid." Not that Ed believed himself for a second. "I'll stick around until this is sorted, in case you need the help. Don't say thanks though, that'd be fucking weird."

People had been coming and going all day, Riza had noticed with some interest. Most of the time, they came and went without telling her what was going on, with the exception of Rebecca and Jean, who had the courtesy to tell her that they were going home for a change of clothes and a two hour nap. Rebecca had placed a slip of paper with her phone number on it, just in case 'General Sulkypants' got too annoying. Most of the time though, they came and went without a word, and considering most of the chatter that she overheard was about her, it was beginning to become incredibly frustrating.

There were new voices in the house now, ones that unsurprisingly she didn't recognise. To her, it was just more people to gawk at her awkwardly, who wouldn't know what to say about either her past or what had happened while she was gone, and who would gloss over parts of her past because _they_ didn't want to talk about it and she didn't want to push them and hurt them more than she already had. The whole thing was a mess, and she was glad she had Hayate, because at least the dog didn't treat her strangely.

Both of the new people peeked in at her, both blonde men with a passing similarity to each other that made her think they were brothers, but one of them went into the kitchen with Roy - who was currently unable to look at her - and the other one came in and sat with her.

"So. How do I know you?" Riza asked, before he had a chance to speak. Might as well get the awkward reintroductions over with, so they could move on to the far more awkward discussion about how yes, she really didn't remember much of anything.

"I'm Alphonse," He said. Unlike everyone else, he smiled warmly at her. "I didn't expect you to recognise me anyway, last time we saw each other I was a suit of armor, or it's possible that I was a really skinny version of my brother, the first few hours after coming back are a bit of a blur, to be honest."

Riza blinked a couple of times, "A suit of armor?" She asked.

Alphonse nodded, and went into an explanation that he'd obviously done a few times, and had it well practiced. About his mother, about the mistakes he and his brother had both made in deciding to bring her back, how Edward had lost his leg, and he'd lost his entire body in the process, then how Edward had brought his soul back and attached it to a suit of armor in exchange for his arm. While the tale itself was almost impossible to believe, Riza wasn't surprised by any of it.

"Did your armor have pointy bits on it?" She asked. Whatever reaction Alphonse had expected her to have, this one obviously surprised him. "On the shoulders, and, I think the head? I just have this vague memory of a metal man holding me while fire rages around me and I'm screaming."

"You remember the fight with Lust?" He asked.

"Who's Lust?" Riza asked.

"One of the homunculi." Alphonse replied, and at the lost look on her face he begun to explain what had happened prior to her going missing. He admitted that when it came to her role in all of it, there was a lot he didn't know and a lot of questions he hadn't asked but now wished he had, but he explained what had happened as best he could. Unfortunately, the whole thing just made Riza feel even more confused and lost.

"There really is so much I don't remember, isn't there?" Riza asked, feeling defeated and confused. How could she have forgotten something like that? She'd been under the impression that her life - with the exception of Roy's flame alchemy, and her father - had been normal. She'd had friends, a job, and a past that didn't feature anything stranger than her tattoo, but it wasn't like that at all. Memories that should have been burned into her had been either taken or locked away by something, and she had no idea what or how to get them back.

"You remembered me," Alphonse pointed out kindly. "We're all going to help you remember the rest."

It was true, there were snatches of memories mixed up in her head, they were impossible to place along a timeline and she had no idea what most of them meant. Maybe they were just locked up in her head somehow and she just needed to figure out how to get them back.

"Thank you, for explaining everything," Riza said. "And for saving my life before."

"You don't need to thank me for that." Alphonse insisted. "You would've done the same for me, for any of us."

"Would I?" Riza asked, and even to her own ears she sounded melancholy. "I don't remember."

Rebecca was delightfully out of breath as she and Jean collapsed into bed next to each other, grinning up at the ceiling in a post coital haze. She took a couple of deep breaths, giggled involuntarily and glanced over at Jean, who was reaching for a pack of cigarettes.

"Don't you dare smoke those in here, you know the rule." She snapped.

"Aww, c'mon, Becca." Jean said, and he leaned in close and nuzzled her neck, he placed light kisses down to her shoulder, which made her close her eyes and smile. "Please?"

"Ugh. Fine, just this once." She agreed.

They'd left the safe house with the intention of going back to hers, getting some sleep, having a shower, and then changing into clean clothes before they either headed back or went to HQ, depending on whatever had been decided in the few hours they'd be away. However, when they got back neither of them could sleep. It didn't matter that they were exhausted, both of them were too wired to relax, so Rebecca had decided to fix that in her usual fashion, by kissing Jean until she couldn't remember what had her so stressed in the first place.

Rebecca shifted around in the bed until she was comfortable, and closed her eyes. She was just drifting off to sleep, Jean's free hand brushing her hair gently, when the phone rang. Loudly.

"Ugh. No. I'm not here." Rebecca insisted, and rolled over and pressed her face against the pillow, while Jean chuckled. "Can't you get it?"

"C'mon, sleeping beauty. You know it's probably something to do with Hawkeye." He said, and nudged her until she got out of bed. She grabbed his shirt and slipped it on before going to answer the phone.

"Hello?" She asked, trying not to sound too annoyed until she knew who was calling.

"Lieutenant, I need you to come back to the safe house." Mustang said, and okay, now she didn't feel bad about being rude.

"Why, what have you done now?" She asked.

"I haven't done anything. I need you to take her to see a doctor."

Rebecca frowned, "Is Riza okay?" She asked. She'd only been gone a few hours, and her wounds were superficial enough that they were cleaned up with some rubbing alcohol and a few plasters. What could have happened since then?

"She's fine, I just want her to get checked out." He said.

"And what does she want?" Rebecca challenged.

"She's been MIA for two years, getting checked out by a doctor is hardly something worth discussing."

"So you haven't talked to her about this?" Rebecca asked. "Apart from the one awkward conversation this morning, have you talked to her _at all_?"

"Lieutenant."

"What?" She asked. "You can't just hide."

"Be here in an hour."

Mustang didn't wait for a response, and she slammed the phone down in frustration. It wasn't that she didn't understand, she did, she knew how difficult it was, but Mustang had always acted like he was the only one in the world that lost her, and anyone else grieving was infringing on his personal pain. Now Riza was back, and Rebecca knew how guilty he must be feeling, that they didn't search hard enough after the explosion that took out part of the medical tents where she'd been seen last, that they accepted the official line too easily, that she and the others had perished under the rubble. Rebecca knew how that felt, because she was feeling it herself. Every time she looked at Riza, it was like a stab through the heart, but that wasn't Riza's fault. It was her own.

"What's going on?" Jean asked from the doorway of her bedroom. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just pissed off at Mustang and upset about Riza." Rebecca admitted, maybe she was anything other than fine. "I have to go back and take Riza for a medical. You should get some sleep."

"Couldn't someone else do that?" Jean asked.

"Probably, but I'm the lucky winner." She crossed the space between them and gave him a quick kiss. "Go on, bed. I'm gonna shower and then head back out."

Riza closed her eyes against the harsh white light and tried to think about anything other than the feel of the hospital gown against her skin, and the prick of the needle as they drew another vial of blood. Her skin felt uncomfortably hot, and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest at any moment. She really didn't want to be here.

It reminded her of The Lab. She hadn't talked about it with anyone, the white walls, the 'medical team' who poked and prodded her without explanation, and the beatings when she didn't do what they wanted her to. Although she couldn't remember _what_ they had wanted her to do. There were no motives in her memories, no faces either, just disembodied voices and pain.

"We're almost done." The doctor said, and Riza nodded and tried to regulate her breathing.

While her thoughts wandered, she found that they more often than not kept returning to Roy Mustang. Why, she had no idea. Maybe it was that he was attractive, but she didn't think it was just that. Out of everyone, he seemed to know the most about her past, even if there were parts he was unwilling to talk about. How much did he know? And what were they to each other if he knew more than everyone else? These were the thoughts that she clung to, instead of the harsh light of her medical checks.

"There. All done." The doctor said. "You're a little underweight, but not alarmingly so. As for the rest, well. I'm sure it comes to no surprise to you that you have amnesia."

Riza answered this with a look of annoyance, and the doctor coughed awkwardly before he continued. "According to your x-rays, it doesn't look like you've suffered any head trauma, although there is evidence that you've suffered physical trauma in the past."

"Will my memories return?" Riza asked, not surprised by the results.

"There's no guarantee." The doctor replied. "There's a chance that you'll never remember your life previous to where your memories begin, but there's also a chance that you will. I suggest you try to familiarise yourself with your life before hand, even if you don't get your memories back, it'll help you feel less lost."

Riza nodded. "Can I get out of this gown now?"

The doctor stepped out of the room, and Riza listened as he explained the same thing to Rebecca outside the door as she changed back into the borrowed clothes. She'd need clothes of her own, and a place to stay, and a job. Would the military take her back if she couldn't remember being in it? And did she even want to be in the military? Riza had no idea how to begin rebuilding her life from the ground up.

Rebecca was waiting for her when she left the examination room. "So, you're a bit on the skinny side? I could've told you that." She joked. "Want to get some food?"

"What did we do for fun?" Riza asked, as they headed for the exit.

"We went shopping, ate food, went drinking, sometimes we'd sit around and eat Xingese takeout and complain about boys." Rebecca said. "Well, I'd complain about boys and you'd listen."

"How about something that doesn't cost money?" She asked.

"Oh?" Rebecca asked, and then got a wicked grin on her face. "Well, we could go shooting. I'll get you on the range, no problem."

Riza looked at the gun, and she took it in her hands and tested the weight of it. She couldn't tell you its name, or caliber, but she could take it apart and put it back together, and she knew how to shoot it. It was instinctive, like breathing.

Rebecca had looked incredibly stunned as Riza silently, and initially slowly, broken the handgun down into its smaller parts, and then quickly put it back together. Riza couldn't explain how she knew how to do it, she couldn't remember doing it before, but here she was.

"I swear, if you're still a better shot than me, I'm going to be pissed." Rebecca said, eyes still wide at Riza's skill with the weapon.

"Was I good?" Riza asked, the ear protection around her neck.

"They didn't call you the Hawks Eye for nothing."

"Whoever 'they' were had terrible imagination." Riza said. "Fine, lets see how I do."

Riza put the ear protection on, and the goggles to protect her eyes. She picked up the gun, she felt the comforting weight of it, the feel of it in her hands felt familiar, and she smiled to herself as she aimed and shot. Once her clip was empty, she hit the button to draw the paper outline of the man towards her, and with some satisfaction she noted that each bullet had met their mark.

"Okay, that's not fair." Rebecca said, from behind her. "You don't even remember ever shooting, and you're still better than me."

"Must be muscle memory." Riza said. "Or you're just not a very good shot."

Rebecca looked stunned, and Riza was seconds away from apologising when Rebecca started to laugh. "God, Riza, I really missed you." She said, once her laughter had subsided. "I know you don't remember but…"

"The list of things I don't remember isn't just limited to you," Riza pointed out. "Come on, let's go get some food and you can complain about boys or whatever it is you like to do."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, but I don't have any money so I'll have to owe you."

"Don't be stupid," Rebecca said. "This one's on me."


	4. Chapter 4

Everything had happened very quickly since she and Rebecca had arrived back at the safehouse. They'd been out later than expected, and Roy wasn't happy, but wasn't able to articulate what they'd done wrong when Rebecca had challenged him on it. There hadn't been much time to argue - although Riza suspected that was because Rebecca was winning and Roy was getting more and more fed up of being on the losing side - because Roy dropped the bomb that they were going to look for where she'd been held, and that she was going with them.

"You don't think this is a good idea, do you?" Riza asked.

Rebecca was sitting on the edge of her bed - well, the bed in the safe house, Riza didn't have anything that was actually hers. It all belonged to someone else. She'd borrowed tactical gear from her, a pair of military issued trousers and a black turtleneck, with a comfortable and sturdy pair of boots.

"We need to find the place sooner rather than later," Rebecca said. "And you're the only one that knows where it is."

"That didn't answer my question." Riza pointed out, and stared at her reflection in the small mirror. Her hair was a mess, and she frowned and looked around for something to tie it back with.

"It's been less than twenty four hours since Jean almost ran you over." Rebecca pointed out, and wordlessly handed her a hair tie. "I don't think taking you out into the field is one of Mustang's great ideas."

"Does he have great ideas?" Riza asked curiously, and she swept her long blonde hair back into a ponytail, and away from her face. "I need a haircut."

"We can go tomorrow, if you want." Rebecca said. "And he's not the worst, but I'm not the person to talk to about Mustang."

"You two don't get along, do you?" Riza felt like she'd just stated the obvious, but there was obviously a history there that Riza wasn't currently privy to. It was just another piece of the puzzle that was missing.

"We have our moments when we get on fine." Rebecca said, although Riza was skeptical about whether or not that was actually true or just something that Rebecca was saying to try to convince her. "We just both really cared - care - about you, we just didn't always agree on what was the best for you."

"I'm sure I used to be able to decide that for myself." Riza said, and tried to keep the hint of bitterness out of her voice. Now there was so much she didn't know about herself, or anything else, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to order food she liked off a menu, let alone make any life choices that wouldn't backfire on her horribly.

"Maybe, but we're both obnoxious busy bodies." Rebecca said, and Riza couldn't help but smile a little bit.

It was true of Rebecca, she'd inserted herself almost seamlessly into her life and had become her friend with so much ease that it had confirmed Riza's gut instinct that this was a person she could trust. She believed her when she claimed they'd been friends before, it was an easy thing to believe, even if she couldn't remember if it was the truth.

"Here, you'll need this." Rebecca had been rummaging through her bag while Riza had let her thoughts wander, and she pulled out a shoulder holster and passed it to her. Riza slipped it on like she'd been wearing one for years, and confidently took the guns, checked them, and holstered them.

"How do I look?" Riza asked.

"Like you." Rebecca said. "If things get bad, Jean will get you out. And Mustang will protect you no matter what. They all will."

"I know." Riza said. "I'll be okay, Rebecca."

"And if you run into trouble, just shoot it." Rebecca said. "Or punch it. Or kick it in the balls. Especially if that trouble is Mustang."

Riza smiled softly at her new - but also old - friend, and hugged her quickly. It was the first time she'd touched someone willingly since Jean had almost hit her with his car. The first time someone wasn't patching her up, or checking that she was okay, the first time she'd just hugged someone that remembered her. It was quick, but genuine, and it stopped Rebecca from babbling, which had been the point.

"I'll be fine," Riza promised. "You said it yourself, they're not going to let anything happen to me."

"But if something does…" Rebecca started.

"It won't." Riza repeated. "And anyway, I'm not allowed to die. Remember?"

"Just don't forget that, okay?" She asked.

"I'm not planning on forgetting anything again." Riza said.

If it wasn't for her hair being in a ponytail, instead of a clip, it would be exactly like _before_. The three of them - him, Havoc, and Hawkeye - driving to a mission location had been something they'd done thousands of times. It was as normal for him as avoiding paperwork, but over the last two years her seat had been empty. His whole life had been empty. Now she was back and it was like the colour of his world had been turned back on. Everything he'd done over the past two years had been for her, rebuilding Ishval had been for her, the thought that maybe he could redeem her in death the way he never could in life had haunted him, that her decision to give him the flames would be redeemed. It had never been about him, although people had praised (and hated) him for it. Everything had been about _her_. About Riza.

Except, while he was honouring her memory, he'd missed the fact that she was still alive.

Something had slipped past him, past all of them, and Roy had found himself in a place beyond anger and guilt. He was torn between holding her tightly, and admitting every feeling he'd ever had towards her. Every moment of annoyance, of frustration, of lust, and love. Every secret longing he'd kept from her, he wanted her to know, to erase the regrets that had haunted him just as much as her loss. He also wanted her to leave, to disappear, to go with Rebecca somewhere and be _safe,_ but away from him. He didn't deserve to have her around. He'd failed her once, and he knew he'd do it again and again.

Havoc pulled the car over, "This is where we ran into each other." He explained, and the three of them got out of the car, and were shortly joined by Breda and Fuery.

Riza led the way, like so many times before, and they all followed dutifully, and silently. The alleyways got filthier the further they walked, and Riza sometimes stopped to look around before taking them off in a different direction. She'd ran this path in the pouring rain, scared and alone, with no memory of him or her friends. No memory of her life. She'd ran on instinct, just to get away from whatever hell she'd been in.

Now he was asking her to go back, more than that, he'd asked her to lead them there. She was so calm, so focused, and so much like Riza that it would be so easy to let himself forget that she didn't remember them. Not that he would let himself forget that. Her memory loss was just as much his failure as her captivity, she'd had her sense of self, her reality, her very essence stripped from her because he'd believed that she was dead.

What were people if not their memories, after all?

He'd believed them when they said she'd died in the after explosion. A munition that hadn't gone off during the fight with Father, that had taken out the medical tent she'd been taken to. He shouldn't have believed them when they said there was no way of retrieving a body. He shouldn't have believed anything he'd been told.

If he hadn't believed, then she wouldn't have been lost. Roy honestly believed that.

The warehouse looked normal from the outside, which surprised Riza. She couldn't remember what it looked like as she'd ran from it, in fact, everything before she ran into Jean's car felt hazy before it settled into blank nothingness with the occasional moment of memory thrown in seemingly at random. Inside, she knew, it would be a different story.

"This is it."

Jean had positioned himself in front of her as they entered the building, and Riza suspected that Rebecca might've had something to do with it, but it meant that she couldn't see anything as they crossed the threshold into the darkness.

"Fuery, can you do something about the lights?" Jean asked, and he stood there protecting her until the lights flooded the building.

The building didn't look like a warehouse on the inside. It looked more like a hospital. Or a science lab. The smell of antiseptic and bleach filled her nostrils, and the white walls were obnoxiously bright with the light shining on them. Riza knew these walls. She knew the smell. She could remember voices, and screaming, and the desperation as she ran, and fought her way out. Riza took a deep breath.

"Follow me." She said.

If they were going to argue, they stopped at the sight of her drawing one of her guns. She pointed it down at the ground as she walked through the laboratory. Whoever had left, had done so in a hurry, as there were random papers littering the floor. Riza ignored them, and kept walking. They didn't ask where she was leading them, which was good, because Riza didn't want to say the words that were dancing around her head. She didn't want to talk about experimentation, or men in lab coats injecting her with god only knows what, or what happened when she wouldn't cooperate.

Riza never cooperated.

The door to the examination room was open, and Riza stepped into it, followed by the rest of the team. There was an examination table in the centre of the room, with straps to hold the 'patient' down, and a bright light suspended from the ceiling above it. The room was filled with medical equipment, some of it was spilled on the floor, and there was blood splatter on the walls but there wasn't a body on the ground. That was a pity.

"I think the blood was me." Riza admitted, breaking the tense silence that had fallen over them. "I think - I'm not sure - but I think they had me here when I escaped. I fought whoever was here and ran." The details were hazy, so very hazy, but she remembered blood and bright lights.

"Hawkeye - " Jean started to say something, but she waved him off.

"Lets just keep going. See if we can find some information, I think the office is this way."

Riza didn't look at their faces as she left the room. She didn't want to see their pity, or their horror, at part of what she went through. She'd shown them, and that was enough. If they were her friends, if they knew her better than she knew herself right now, they'd respect that.

There were rooms she ignored. Holding cells she didn't want to go into, or anywhere near, and Breda and Fuery went off after a quick word from Mustang to search them without her.

The office was up a flight of stairs, and it would've looked like any other office in the world if it wasn't for the chair in front of the desk, with straps designed to hold down whoever was made to sit in it. Riza had been here a few times, she thought, but she couldn't remember why or who talked to her. Just that she'd been tied into that chair.

Riza rubbed her wrists at the memory, the ghost of pressure lingered there like a physical manifestation of the memory. She holstered her gun, and went to the desk with the intention of searching through it to find anything that would explain who had done this, or why. She'd settle for anything at this point, just to understand what had happened to her. Riza wasn't looking at Roy when she heard the snap, the snap that for some reason in her head meant both _fire_ and _Mustang_.

The chair in the middle of the room was on fire, and Roy's anger was all over his face. Anger at this room? At the fact that she'd been tied there? At everything this building represented? Riza was fairly sure it was all of those things, and more. Tomorrow, the gesture might be understandable. Maybe after talking it over with Rebecca, she'd understand him a bit better, but right now his anger was just getting in the way of her finding out the details of what had happened to her. "Please put that out." Riza said, calmly. "I don't want the whole building to go up before it's been searched."

The fire was out almost as quickly as it begun, and Riza nodded before she went back to searching through the desk. Jean didn't say a word to either of them.

In the end, there were boxes full of random papers, photos, and other evidence. Not just from the office, but from all over the building where they'd slipped out of files in the rush to empty the place. They must have known that it wouldn't be long before someone went looking, after she'd escaped. Breda and Fuery had taken it back to the office to be sorted, and Jean had driven her and Roy back to the safe house.

"I'm going back to Rebecca's to fill her in. You two play nice." Jean warned them, before he left them alone. The Elric's had left hours ago for their hotel, Hayate was the only other person in the building, and he was sleeping in one of the battered armchairs.

Riza flopped onto the sofa, and as an afterthought she removed the guns and placed them on the coffee table. Thoughts were rushing through her head, and she placed her head in her hands and tried to sort through it all. There were no answers, not really. Only more questions than she had before, and she already thought she had more than she could deal with.

"I'm sorry." Roy said, awkwardly, from the doorway, and she looked up at him questioningly. "For the fire."

"Oh. That." Riza said. "It's fine. It was a horrible chair."

"Did they…" Roy seemed unable to ask the question, which caused Riza to sigh.

"Tie me to it?" She asked. "Yes. I don't remember why."

"Then I take it back. I'm not sorry I set it on fire." He said, and sat down next to her. It surprised her, to have him so close. Unlike Rebecca, who didn't want to leave her alone, Roy had barely been in the same room as her since she'd been here. Riza was sure he had his reasons, even though she doubted she'd ever know what they were.

"We'll figure out what happened to you." Roy said it like it was a promise, or a vow, and somehow Riza knew he was sincere. That he would, in fact, do whatever it took to find out what happened to her. She knew that he'd go all over the country, and beyond, if it would explain what had happened. It wasn't what she wanted though. Or rather, she wanted her life back _more_ than she wanted to find out what took it away.

"I just want my life back." She admitted. "It's not that I don't want to find out what happened. But I just want my life back. I want somewhere to live that isn't a musty safe house, I want my own money, a job, my friends. I want to remember. I just… I want my life back."

Roy put his arm around her shoulders without uttering a word, there was nothing he could say that would comfort her, but she leaned into his touch and felt warm and importantly, she felt safe. They sat like that for a while, in silence because for whatever reason, Riza didn't need him to speak to understand that he was sorry about so many things.

"If you want, I have a spare room." Roy said, quietly. "You left me most of your stuff in your will, and it's still boxed up at mine. Your things will be there, and you'll be welcome."

"You have my stuff?" She asked, surprised.

"You left it to me."

"We must have been close." For her to leave him almost everything she owned, she must have trusted him. He must have meant more to her than she could remember.

He sighed against her hair, unspoken confirmation that there was something there, a friendship that went unspoken, and she could leave it there for now and ask about it later. "If you don't mind. Then it'd be nice to stay, at least until I get my feet under me."

"I don't mind at all."


	5. Chapter 5

Whoever this guy was, he was either egotistical enough to think that he'd never be caught or stupid enough to use a barely there code to hide his work. In fact, Ed wasn't sure he should even refer to the use of initials and a date as a code, it was insulting to any five year old who tried to write secret notes by reversing the alphabet because at least that tried to hide the meaning. It hadn't taken them long to find anything relating to Hawkeye, her initials were followed by the date of the Promised Day, anything else would've been more subtle than that. Anything.

Both he and Al had arrived at Eastern HQ early that morning, with the intention of helping with the investigation into Hawkeye's disappearance, and her subsequent reappearance. General Idiot hadn't arrived yet, and Havok wasn't due in until the afternoon because of his night shifts. This left him, Breda and Fuery sorting through the boxes of evidence that had been brought in the night before. It hadn't taken any of them long to figure out the 'code' and they were now stacking up piles of paper according to whether or not they referenced Hawkeye, any other 'test subject' (their words, not Ed's. He prefered to think of them as unwilling participants, and that's only because the thought of Hawkeye as a victim made him want to vomit), or was unidentifiable.

There were photos too.

Initially they hadn't bothered him. He'd seen worse things happen right in front of him, so a few photos of people strapped to a medical examination table, while disgusting, didn't even cause him to blink. He didn't know who these people were, and they were put into a pile to sort through later, to cross reference with missing people reports, or those who were classed as MIA at some point.

Then there was Hawkeye. Captured in black and white. Leather cuffs kept her wrists and ankles tied down to the metal examination table, to stop her from fighting back, although judging from the glazed look in her eyes, Ed didn't think she'd have been able to do much even if she had been able to. There were bruises on her arms and face, dark against her pale skin. Ed wanted to tear the picture up into tiny little pieces to preserve her dignity, he wanted to find the person responsible and beat them within an inch of their life, and he wanted to make sure something like this never happened to anyone ever again.

Instead, Ed handed the picture to Breda, facedown to hide it from Al. There were some things his younger brother shouldn't need to see. Hell, no one should have to see Hawkeye like that. "Make sure General Useless doesn't see this." He said. "Or if he does, make sure he's not wearing his gloves."

Breda turned the photo over, and didn't offer any comment. His silence, and the way his jaw clenched, said everything it needed to.

After that, Ed let Breda sort through the photos, and he went back to papers. After the picture Ed took the job on himself. He'd seen what they'd done to her, maybe not the full extent but he could paint a picture well enough in his mind to know that they'd hurt her. Drugged her. The sooner they put this piece of shits notes together, the sooner they could find him and Ed could beat the crap out of him. He might even be nice and let Mustang have a go. Maybe.

The pages they'd recovered from the site read more like a diary than anything else, and it reminded Ed of some of the alchemist diaries he'd managed to get his hands on over the years. Personal notes and opinions, observations that weren't just about the experiment. It was self indulgent drivel, that made Ed want to bash his head against the nearest hard surface.

It was frustrating work. There were massive sections missing, and it was difficult to tell what order the pages went in to begin with. Still, Ed and Al had pieced together Marcoh's research about the Philosopher's stones when they were nothing more than kids, he could pull this together now he was - arguably - an adult. Hours passed as he messed up the piles of papers and switched pages around to try and find an order that made sense. There were some dates, references to things that happened, that helped Ed put it into order, until something would contradict it and he'd have to start again.

Havok arrived in the early afternoon, but Ed ignored him.

Al brought him food, and rolled his eyes as Ed ate it while reading, and laughed when Ed missed his mouth and managed to put the sandwich more up his nose than anywhere else, leaving a smear across his face.

The skies were a dark blue, almost inky black, when Ed finally stopped furiously and obsessively working. He'd read every page, and had pieced together every sordid detail that they had managed to pick up off the floor of the unsanctioned lab. He'd been hit by a wave of nausea every time he'd seen Hawkeye's identifying code, but it had been replaced by an all encompassing feeling of dread.

"Hey, Al, read this." He passed it to his brother. "I think I got it right, but I really wish I hadn't."

Al read it quickly, the pair of them had always been too smart for their own good, and too quick to think they were right. Now Ed thought he knew better, or at least tried to _be_ better, tried not to jump to conclusions as much as he had as a kid when he thought he was the smartest person in the room. Well. He tried. So he got Al to read it, and then passed it to Breda and Havok, and Fuery.

The five of them sat in silence afterwards, they let the weight of the words rest in their minds and tried to sort through the possibilities of what it could all mean.

"At least the experiment failed." Al said, the first to break the silence.

"Yeah, but we still have no idea what they were trying to do to her in the first place." Breda pointed out. "Doesn't really matter if it failed, if we have no idea what it was."

"It talked about brainwashing regarding 'MS42'," Fuery pointed out. "Maybe it's the same sort of thing?"

"Do we know anyone who knows anything about brainwashing?" Al asked.

"Not really our area." Havok said.

"And it didn't work," Fuery pointed out. "At least not with Hawkeye."

"So why let her go?" Ed asked, and instantly hated himself for voicing the question.

"What?" Al asked.

"Ed's got a point." Breda said thoughtfully. "If it didn't take, why keep her around? Killing her would be simpler than somehow wiping her memory. Even if they never meant to let her go, why do all of that?"

"Unless the amnesia is another experiment?" Ed asked, voicing his hypothesis outloud. "And if it is then she's probably still being observed."

"Well. Shit." Havok said. "Fuery, call the boss. Breda, let's go annoy them in person. I want to check the security on his fancy townhouse."

* * *

This was a mistake.

Two years ago (two years, three months, two weeks, and three days, to be exact) he would have been overjoyed at having her so close. Living together in the same house had never been on the cards for them, it had been nothing more than an idle daydream he'd used to torture himself. They had more important things to do with their lives, responsibilities to their country that they had decided were more important than their own happiness. Roy would have been lying if he said it wasn't also a sort of penance, the denial of the thing that would have made them happy to try to make up for even a small portion of what they'd done. What _he'd_ done, that she felt responsible for.

Now, having her close, so close that he could hear her rummaging through boxes and talking to Hayate, so close that their bedrooms shared a wall. So close, that if this had been _before_ , they both would have been hauled up on charges of fraternisation.

Yet, it was a mistake. And a torture of a new, different kind, that Roy had barely had time to contemplate after he'd made the impulsive gesture to ask her to live here, with him.

Riza didn't remember him. She remembered the dog, and even Alphonse, but not him. Whatever had cruelly taken away her memories had left enough of her behind that he could see his Riza in her movements, in the way she calmly ordered him to stop doing things, in the way she smiled indulgently at Hayate and let him get away with sitting on the furniture, and yet there was no recognition when she looked at him, not even the smallest hint that she knew who he really was to her. What, in reality, she really was to him.

It hurt more than any unfulfilled wishful daydream ever could. It almost hurt more than losing her, if only because every confused look felt like he'd never get her back. Not really. Not back to the way things were. It was what he deserved though, after abandoning her to her fate, and the guilt of knowing she'd been alive while he mourned her would eat away at his soul forever, he was sure of it.

So he gave her some money, and a key to the house, and then left her alone in his townhouse to go through her things and try to remember, while he found any excuse to be elsewhere. He got the paperwork to bring her back to life on paper, talked to Veteran Affairs about her pension, Roy busied himself so he didn't need to look at her eyes and see nothing but confusion staring back at him.

It was early evening by the time he returned home, unable to find another excuse to keep him away from her. He was surprised to hear her and Catalina chatting animatedly, Catalina had turned into Riza's constant shadow, and Roy didn't know how she could stand it. Didn't she feel the guilt and grief that he felt? Didn't she hate the way Riza didn't remember them? Didn't she feel the pain deep within her chest every time she looked at her, the way he did?

"Hi Roy." Riza said. She'd had her haircut, inches cut off and her fringe cut back in. She looked like she always had; like the most beautiful thing in the world. A beautiful thing he'd let wilt in the darkness and would destroy by being near, he was sure.

"Your hair looks nice." Roy complimented her, and tried to make it sound easy.

"You think so?" She asked, tugging on it awkwardly.

He wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that she had always been beautiful, but instead he nodded, "Of course."

He left them alone, and headed to the kitchen, it was too early for alcohol, but he couldn't stand to look at her for longer than he had to. He wasn't even halfway through making a cup of coffee when the door clicked closed.

"You're a fucking asshole." Catalina accused, and when he turned to look at her, she was five foot whatever of pure fury, hands on hips and anger all over her face.

"Nice to see you too, _Lieutenant_ Catalina." He said, emphasising her rank to try and stop her from whatever ridiculous rant she was about to embark on. He didn't want to hear it.

"You know, way back, I used to think you at least cared about her." She said. "But now I think you're either an idiot, or you never gave a shit but can't abandon her completely in case it looks bad."

Roy felt like he'd been slapped. In fact, he would have prefered it if she had just slapped him. "That's… what are you going on about?"

"You. Not talking to her. Not even looking at her." Rebecca said. "Don't think she hasn't noticed, because she has. Yeah, you're 'so kind' to let her stay here, but you're leaving her to go through this shit _alone_. You're not helping her, you've just abandoned her."

"I…" Roy started to speak, but he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. "I left her there, she was alive, and suffering, and I left her there. How can I help her now, when I couldn't help her then?"

"You just do." She said. "It's not about you, or me, or our guilt. It's about _her_. It's time you realised that."

Roy had a retort, he swore he did, but he was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone, and he used it as an excuse to leave Catalina alone in the kitchen.

* * *

Fear kept Riza awake.

It was the early hours of the morning, and Roy's team had left hours ago after making sure the house was relatively secure. Rebecca had given her a gun, and told her to shoot anyone that tried to hurt her. Both Jean and Breda (not Heymans - he'd been clear about that) had offered to stay, but Roy had assured them that she'd be fine.

He'd assured her that she'd be fine. Even if she didn't feel like it.

Unable to sleep, Riza slipped out of bed and left her bedroom. The light from Roy's room was still on, and shined underneath the door and into the hallway. She hesitated before she knocked.

Roy rarely talked to her, he could barely look at her when they were in the same room together, and he found excuses to be anywhere else other than where she was. It would have been infuriating, considering he knew so much about her that she couldn't recall, but last night he'd held her, he'd wrapped an arm around her shoulders after she'd lead them to the lab, and he'd offered her a place to stay and given her money. Whatever was going through his head, Riza knew that he cared.

He cared enough to keep her here when she was being watched, and cared enough that he couldn't sleep either.

Roy opened his bedroom door, and stood aside to let her in. They stood in silence, and then both began to talk at once, stumbling over words and unable to understand each other, and Riza snorted. Of course they wouldn't be able to have even one conversation.

"Are you okay?" Roy asked, and went back to sit on his bed. She hovered somewhere near the door, unsure if she should sit next to him or stay where she was.

"Can't sleep." She admitted. "I just keep feeling like I'm being watched from the shadows. Like something's just going to jump out of them at me. I know it's ridiculous, but just knowing they're out there and might still have an interest…"

Roy's eyes narrowed, and he shifted over to the far side of the bed and tapped the space next to him. "It's not ridiculous." He said. "Pride could do that, although that's probably not the best bedtime story."

Riza raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he was sure he wanted her to sit next to him on his bed, and for whatever reason (she didn't have enough information to guess) he looked pleased as he nodded. "What?" She asked, as she sat on the bed next to him, it still felt warm from where he'd been lying.

"You did the silent communication thing."

"Silent communication thing?" Riza asked.

"It's just something we did." Roy said. "Talking without talking."

"Is that why you don't talk to me now?" Riza asked, she hadn't meant to confront him about it. She'd mentioned it to Rebecca who had cursed angrily, but she'd never thought about talking to Roy about it. Was it being tired, or was it the fear that had caused her to slip?

"No. That's because I'm an asshole." Roy admitted.

"You're not an asshole."

"No, this is one thing Catalina was right about," Roy said. "I've been a complete asshole since you came back."

"You're letting me stay in your house." Riza pointed out. "Even though I'm possibly being followed by who knows what."

"We've had maybe half a dozen awkward conversations since you came back. Before you left we'd have dozens of genuine conversations a day. You were my most precious subordinate, I trusted you with everything. My life, my plans, my whole world was wrapped up in you." Roy admitted quietly. "And I couldn't even look at you."

Riza didn't know what to say, it sounded like a declaration of love just as much as it sounded like an explanation. Love for a girl that had died, and then came back without a memory. Yeah, maybe he had been a bit of an asshole, but Riza had the feeling she knew why. That it had been wrapped up in guilt and pain, and not for any other reason. She took his hand, and squeezed it, silently communicating that it was okay. That he was forgiven.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, Riza. I won't let it." Roy promised. "In the morning, I'll help you remember. We'll go through those boxes together, and we'll talk about your past."

"Thank you," Riza said. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Roy said.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything about her situation was precarious. Her memories were an almost blank slate, as only small fragments had survived whatever it was that had happened to her. It had left her horribly vulnerable and alone, she'd been forced to trust people she didn't recognise, who all looked at her like she was both a ghost and a miracle. It hadn't surprised her that the people who had taken her were still after her, possibly watching her every move and waiting for something to happen. Riza wasn't sure if it was just because she was hard to surprise, or if it was because everything since she'd escaped straight into the path of Jean Havoc had felt almost too coincidental and easy. She might not have been surprised, but she had been afraid. What if they found her and took her back? What if they hurt the people around her in the process? There were so many possibilities, and not enough certainties, it had left her understandably scared and anxious.

Yet here, curled up in Roy's bed, with him close enough that she could hear his rhythmic breathing as he slept, she felt safe for the first time. Riza smiled to herself, let her eyes close, and once again drifted back to sleep.

It was morning when she woke again, sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains and illuminated the room enough that she could get out of bed and to the door without walking into anything. She could smell food being cooked, and her stomach rumbled as she walked down the stairs and headed towards the kitchen.

Roy stood with his back to the door, and Riza couldn't help but notice that his hair was still wet from the shower, tiny rivulets of water ran down the back of his neck and had made his shirt collar slightly damp. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders, and swept across his back. There was something about his back, something hidden in one of her forgotten memories, surrounded by fog, but it felt important. Important to her, and maybe to him. If only she could get the memory to come into focus, even the tiniest fragment would help her put his back into context.

"Didn't you ever get told it was rude to stare?" Roy asked, interrupting her thoughts and chasing them away.

"No idea," Riza said. "Probably not."

"You won't be able to use that excuse forever," Roy said, and he began serving up the food. Bacon, eggs, mushrooms, sausages, bread, and Riza had no idea how she was going to eat so much. "Don't give it that look, Catalina told me the doctor said you were underweight."

"So you're fattening me up?" Riza asked, but took a seat at the small kitchen table and happily ate the food. It was surprisingly good.

"Just following the doctor's orders." Roy said. "So, did you sleep okay?"

"I woke up a few times, but I got back to sleep okay." She admitted. She wanted to thank him for letting her stay with him, for making her feel safe enough to finally sleep the night away instead of spending it staring at the ceiling, but she didn't have the words. Or maybe she knew that her small, but grateful, smile would say everything instead. That 'silent communication thing' that had made him happy the night before, and judging by the nod of his head, he understood.

They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, and afterwards, Roy refused to let her help clean up. If it was his way to try to apologise for how he'd been, then Riza was willing to let him, even though she'd already forgiven him. She sat at the small table, still dressed in her fluffy light blue pyjamas, and contemplated Roy's back as he washed the dishes.

Even through his white shirt, she could tell that he was well defined and toned, but it wasn't the physical back that bothered her. Not like her own that was marked by flame alchemy. It was what it stood for, and she knew it was something, and that it was important. That if she could just unlock that one memory, solve this one particular puzzle, then everything about them might suddenly make sense. Riza had accepted everything they'd told her, she'd accepted that Roy loved her even if he didn't use those words, but she wanted to feel it. Riza wanted to feel it in her bones and blood, like she thought she used to feel it, like she used to know what they meant to each other the way she instinctively knew how to breathe.

Protection. There was something about protection. It was more than that though, more than just protecting him from harm. Riza took a deep breath and followed the thought through its associations, trying to remember. It was a struggle to piece it together, but she could remember images and feelings all tied together.

Staring down the scope of a rifle at him. Kneeling in front of a makeshift grave. Standing in front of a covered window, the sun going down, and her shirt dropped at her feet. A promise to watch his back. A promise to save him from himself. Pointing a gun at his back. Anger. Sadness. Trust.

Riza could feel tears stinging her eyes, and she wiped them away hurriedly, before Roy turned around and caught her crying at the table. It was overwhelming. Not sad, or even happy, just overwhelming to finally remember something. Something she could put at the cornerstone of their relationship, that through sadness, and anger, there was trust.

Trust that she'd kill him if she had to (and she would), trust that he'd use her father's research wisely (he hadn't, but that was for both of them to carry - even though she couldn't remember what he'd done), trust that she'd never have to kill him, and that he would do the right thing (that she would keep him on the path, nudging him gently - or not so gently - to keep him on it). Trust in each other.

"I'd still do it," Riza said, and kept her eyes on Roy as he turned to face her, confusion written all over his face. "I'd still follow you into hell if you asked me to."

Maybe that was her own declaration. Not of love, she didn't know him well enough for that, but of trust. A declaration of trust.

Roy's eyes went wide, and his voice was quiet, "You remember that?"

"I remember promising to watch your back, and I remember aiming a gun at your back," Riza said. "Some of the details are hazy, and I don't know what all of it means, but yes, I remember enough to know what it means."

If Riza had been standing up, she was sure he would've hugged her then, that she would have been drawn into his arms and held on to tightly as if he was a drowning man, and only she could keep his head above water. She might've kissed him to reassure him, and maybe because she wanted to kiss him, and she wanted to remember it. But Riza was sitting down, and instead of holding her, Roy just stared at her in amazement.

"That's… are you alright?" Roy asked.

"Yes. It's nice to remember something." Riza said. "It's overwhelming though."

"We don't exactly do…"

"Normal?"

"Yeah," Roy admitted, and flopped into the chair in front of her. "I'm sorry. Back then, we'd just got back from Ishval. It - that whole war was. There aren't words to describe what it was like for us, and it was worse for the Ishvalan's. You'd trusted me with the flame alchemy, and I had to use it there to try to wipe out an entire people…"

"Is that why you didn't want to talk about it before?" Riza asked.

Roy looked at his hands, open on the table. He couldn't look her in the eye again, once again wrapped up in guilt and self-loathing, and Riza reached out and took his hand in hers. "Roy, stop it," Riza said. "Whatever it is that's eating at you, stop it and talk to me."

"If I could stop you from remembering one thing, it would be Ishval." Roy admitted. "If I could protect you from those memories, I would."

"You can't protect me from something I did." Riza said. "I'm sure, back then, I made my decisions and I chose to live with the consequences. Even if I don't remember them, the consequences won't go away. What I did won't go away."

"What _we_ did." Roy said.

"Roy. You need to tell me about Ishval. Maybe not this morning, but you do," Riza said. "Because otherwise I'm just going to ask someone else."

"No one else was there." Roy said.

"Then it has to be you." Riza said. "If it's as bad as you say, and I believe that it was, then I need you to lead me into hell."

Roy was silent, and thoughtful, before he began to speak. He stumbled over his words initially, trying to paint a picture of war that had damaged them both beyond repair, but was nothing compared to the damage it had done to the Ishvalan people and their holy land. He told her what he'd done with his flames, how he'd killed and destroyed so many lives. He told her about Hughes, about Armstrong and Kimblee. Finally, once he couldn't avoid it any longer, he told her what she had done. The people she had stared at down a scope before she'd squeezed the trigger.

The scent of blood filled her memory, sickeningly sweet and metallic. In her mind it was mixed with sand, and sweat. The smell of Ishval. It hit her like a bullet. The heat of the unrelenting sun, the screams, the pain, and the sand. She couldn't remember all of their faces anymore, but she knew that she'd killed them. She knew that she'd given Roy the ability to do the same.

Riza had asked Roy to lead her into hell, and he had.

Numbness gave way to horror, and grief, and Riza's hands shook and she let out a choked sob that turned into hysteric crying as she remembered what she'd done. What they'd both done. The lives they'd taken, the families they'd destroyed, the destruction they had brought upon the world. Roy held then, drew her into his arms and held her closely as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He murmured against her hair. "If I could take it all back, I would. But we're fixing it. It's slow, but we're rebuilding, we're fixing what we destroyed. We're doing everything we can. I'm so sorry, Riza. I'm so sorry."

She nodded, and let him hold her even after the tears had stopped. "I can't remember their faces anymore." She admitted. "They deserve to be remembered by me."

"Oh, Riza…" Roy held her tighter. "You'll remember. If you want to remember, then you will."

"I'm sorry." She said. "For making you tell me. But I needed to know who I am. All of it. Not just the good."

"I wish I could take it back." Roy said. "I wish we could live in a world where we made different choices."

"Then we wouldn't be us. We'd be other people." Riza said.

Riza untangled herself from his embrace and wiped her eyes. She needed to shower, to wash the tears from her face, and the feeling of grime of her body. She needed to cry again, muffled by the sound of the water, and then she needed to lock it all away. Not with her missing memories, but as something she did. As something she had to live with.

"When I get my memories back, I don't know if I'll rejoin the military." Riza admitted. "But I want to do whatever I can for Ishval. Can we make sure that happens?"

"Whatever you want to do. I'll make sure it happens." Roy said. "And I'm-"

"Don't say sorry." Riza interrupted. "I needed to know."

"I just…"

"I know."

Riza did know. She knew that he wanted to protect her from herself, from what she'd done, from what they'd both done. She knew he didn't want her to be haunted by it the same way he was, but without remembering, who would she have become? Riza just wanted to be herself, even if that meant remembering the horrors of her past.


	7. Chapter 7

Riza had been uncharacteristically quiet. Not that the woman was exactly a motormouth, Rebecca had always trumped her where being chatty was concerned, but she'd barely said a word the whole time they'd been out. They were shopping, trying to fill Riza's wardrobe with useful items that hadn't been sitting in Mustang's spare room for the last two years. No one deserved to wear musty undies. It was the second shopping trip they'd taken for clothes, and Rebecca was desperate to slip some frivolous clothes into Riza's wardrobe, maybe a mini skirt to wind Mustang up. Not that Riza would ever wear it, but the idea had amused Rebecca, at least it had before her amusement at Mustang torturing had turned into concern for her friend.

They shopped, and Rebecca turned the problem over in her mind. She'd been fine a couple of days ago, worried about Mustang not talking to her much, but fine. Then Rebecca had a mountain of work to catch up on, because the excuse that General Mustang needed her for an operation didn't actually make her day job go away, unfortunately, so she'd been unable to catch up with Riza since she'd read Mustang the riot act.

If he'd done something stupid, she was actually going to slap him this time. Senior officer or not, Rebecca didn't give a damn.

Why was it always that man, with Riza? In Rebecca's humble opinion, Riza could've done so much better than unresolved sexual tension with her boss. It wasn't that Mustang was a bad person, no one would've believed it, but she had a lot of respect for him as an Officer. He'd given Jean back the use of his legs, and then insisted that he rejoin his team, even if at the time he still needed to use a cane and was stuck at the office more often than not. Jean had gotten better, and Mustang had promoted him. As far as Rebecca was concerned, for that alone, for the care and attention he paid to his people, she'd follow him and help him reach the top.

When it came to her best friend, however, Riza deserved more than him. More than a romance that could never reach fruition because of regs. More than some kind of weird co-dependent working relationship, which only seemed to hold her back from meeting someone that would be able to worship the ground she walked on.

Rebecca kept her mouth shut until they'd finished shopping, and took a break at a café, surrounded by shopping bags filled mostly with practical clothes.

"Okay. What did he do?" Rebecca asked, bluntly getting to the point as soon as they had hot, delicious coffee in front of them.

"Sorry - what?"

"Mustang. He must've done something. You're being way too quiet for nothing to have happened." Rebecca pointed out.

"Oh. No. Well. It's not his fault."

Oh, here we go.

"What did he do?" Rebecca asked, a little too sternly, perhaps. Considering the way Riza's shoulders sagged, and she stared into her coffee cup.

"It's more what I did." Riza said quietly.

"Oh, fuck, you didn't kiss him did you?" Rebecca asked. She knew this would happen. Leave the two of them alone in his house, and of course they'd end up doing _something_. She never should've allowed it, she should've put her foot down and insisted that Riza should stay with her, instead of going to Mustang's.

Also, she was going to _kill_ Mustang. Regardless of what he did. If he turned her down then _what on earth was he thinking?_ And if he didn't then Riza doesn't have any memories and is incredibly vulnerable so _stop thinking with your dick, you prick._

"No, I didn't kiss him!" Riza sounded annoyed, but blushed at the idea.

Upside. She didn't need to kill Mustang. That would save a lot of trouble.

"So what are you talking about? You didn't do anything else with him, right?"

"No, Becca, honestly, it's like you have a one track mind." Riza sighed.

"I do not!" Rebecca insisted. "You two were always just stupid intense and I wanted to make sure he hadn't taken advantage of you."

"You just wanted all the juicy details, didn't you?" Riza asked.

"Well. That would've been my next question." Rebecca admitted. "But if it's nothing juicy then what is it? You've been quiet, like you're a million miles away."

Riza was silent. She stirred her coffee. She sipped her coffee. She looked around the room at the other patrons. She did anything other than look at Rebecca, or answer her question. Rebecca was desperate for her to say something, but she kept her mouth firmly shut and waited.

Then, after a while, Riza spoke; "I remembered things I'd done," She said, carefully. "In Ishval."

"Fuck." Rebecca whispered. "Oh Riza, I'm so sorry, I wish-"

"-That I didn't remember it? You and Roy both."

"No, I just wish it wasn't as painful as it obviously is," Rebecca said. "Ishval - I don't know, I wasn't there. But you came back a wreck, and it changed you. I wish I'd been there when you remembered, to help."

"Roy was there."

"Mustang's a moron with the emotional intelligence of limp spaghetti," Rebecca complained. "I would've been better."

"He's not that bad." Riza insisted.

Oh great, she was defending him again. It turned out, that years later, some things never changed. Before, it would've annoyed Rebecca and she would've rolled her eyes and complained even more. Now it felt like Riza was really here, that her memories might be fractured, but it was her best friend that sat opposite her. Rebecca couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face.

"That's only because you fancy him." It wasn't going to stop her from teasing Riza relentlessly, in fact, knowing it was her, feeling sure of it in her bones and in her heart, it only made it worse.

"I don't 'fancy' him." Riza said, but the red that blossomed over her cheeks told Rebecca a different story entirely.

"Liar."

"Shut. Up."

* * *

The corridors of Eastern HQ were familiar in the sense that a dream was familiar. Or maybe how a place from childhood might feel to an adult, hazy and yet familiar. She knew silly things, like where the toilets were, but she still needed Rebecca to lead her up to Roy's office. Riza tried to ignore the strange looks that seemed to follow her through the corridors. No doubt there would be whispers and rumours about her return from the dead circulating within seconds, but if that was the price she had to pay for coming back, then she would pay it without complaint.

Roy's office was large, befitting of his station as Brigadier General. He was young, at only 32, but someone higher up must trust him, and Riza had heard how he'd proven himself during the Promised Day, even if she couldn't remember it. The room had an excellent view, although it was a bit too exposed for her taste, and she closed the blinds as Roy finished up his section of the paperwork before she had to sign it.

"Here." He said, and offered her a pen. She tried not to think of Rebecca's teasing words as their fingers brushed and lingered for a few moments too long. Yes, he was attractive, but everything else was too complicated to contemplate. Even if she wanted romance, and she wasn't sure she did, the fact that most of their past was a mystery to her put an end to any thoughts of kissing him.

She was going to kill Rebecca for putting these thoughts into her head just before she had to spend time with him.

Riza tried not to look at Roy for too long, or too closely, and instead inspected the paperwork. Once she was satisfied that it was correct and that he hadn't forgotten to sign anywhere, or tick any important boxes, she proceeded to sign her own name half a dozen times.

"And that is how you resurrect the dead." Roy declared, a little too dramatically, after she signed the paperwork that would bring her back to life in a legal sense for the final time.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" She asked.

"No, after all, that is what we're doing."

"Only without horrific side effects?" Riza asked.

"I would hope so." Roy placed the paperwork in a folder. "I'm going to get this filled, will you be alright here?"

"You mean in the room with my friends? I'm sure I'll survive." Riza said.

"Edward and Alphonse are working on your case, and the others are helping, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"I'll be fine." Riza assured him. He searched her face, as if to check that she was telling the truth, and she nodded ever so slightly, which seemed to convince him that she really would be okay here without him, and he left to go and file the papers, and she followed him to the outer office to wait for him.

The shopping bags from the day out with Rebecca were piled next to Jean's desk, and he only seemed to be putting up with them because Rebecca had sat herself next to them. He kept stealing looks at her instead of doing his work, and Riza hid a smile at his obvious infatuation with her friend, and decided not to interrupt them.

Instead she walked over to Edward, Alphonse, and Kain, who were all sat around a table, pouring over documents that she knew had to pertain to her disappearance, and sudden reappearance. She looked over their shoulders at scattered pictures of what looked like a battleground. It wasn't in Ishval, which were the only battles she could currently remember, although looking at the pictures, she couldn't help but smell dust, blood and something burning. The scar on her neck, which had never bothered her before, ached as if it was linked to a memory that was just out of reach. She picked one of them up, there was nothing remarkable about it, a destroyed building, and people she didn't recognise, but it felt familiar. As if she had stood there, exhausted and drained, clinging onto the Colonel to direct him and also keep herself upright. Distant memories tried to bring themselves into focus, and she picked up another picture, but this time it wasn't a memory of _then_ that sprung to mind, but of earlier today. In the café.

"Becca, do you recognise him?" Riza shoved the picture under her friend's nose and pointed at a man who looked fairly unremarkable. He was dressed in a military uniform, and it bugged Riza that she couldn't read the rank on his shoulders, and had light hair, he wasn't unattractive, but Riza was sure he wouldn't have noticed him if she hadn't spent so much time looking at anyone other than Rebecca earlier today. He had the sort of face that would normally have just faded into the background.

"Didn't he sit two tables over from us?" Rebecca asked.

Riza nodded, and now that she thought about it, she could've sworn that she'd seen him elsewhere. Browsing in the department store where she'd brought some clothes, and loitering on the street corner smoking a cigarette as they walked from one place to another. "Yeah, but I don't think that's all." Riza hesitantly shared what she swore she remembered. Maybe she was being paranoid, and all of it was a coincidence, but she'd bet it wasn't.

"Breda, let's see if we can track this guy down." Jean said, and handed the picture to him. "Hawkeye, you shouldn't be alone. At all."

Riza nodded, she wasn't even willing to think about being alone right now. She took a spare seat in the corner of the room, and smiled warmly at both Alphonse and Edward, who both stared at her with worried looks on their faces. If it was true, that the man had followed her and Rebecca around town, and that he was there the day she disappeared, then the lead was a good thing. Even if her stomach was tied up in knots and her heart felt like it was trying to beat itself out of her chest. If they could find him, and catch him, then this nightmare might come to a close. Or come closer.

Roy's arrival back into the office was met with action that disturbed Riza from her thoughts and worries. Jean pulled him into his office, and closed the door, only for moments later it to slam open again. Roy stood in the doorway and stared right at her, his face full of worry and anger. "Are you-"

"I'm fine. Go back to work, I'll wait here until it's time for you to go home."

Roy exchanged a look with Jean, who nodded. "We've got it, boss. Take care of her for us."

"Call me at home if you need anything, Fuery, bring over anything that needs my signature," Roy ordered, as he grabbed his coat. "Edward, carry Hawkeyes bags down to the car."

"I am not carrying her bags for you." Edward complained. "I'm busy trying to timeline the last two years of her life."

"This will take five minutes."

"Five minutes I'm not working on something important." Edward fired back.

"I'll do it. I want to stretch my legs." Alphonse said, as if he could sense the danger of that turning into an actual argument. He gathered up her bags, and along with Rebecca, who had her hand on her gun, followed her and Roy out of the building and to the car.

Roy drove them home in silence, his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had turned white, and he kept checking the rearview mirror, in case they were being followed from his office, to his home. Riza didn't have the words to comfort him, but she placed a cautious hand on his knee, which seemed to do the job, or at least he relaxed his hands from their death grip around the steering wheel.

It was only when they got into the house, and closed all the curtains, to block out prying eyes, that Riza felt safe enough to talk about it. "At least we have a lead now." She said. "That's something."

"I should've been with you today."

So that was what was eating away at him. Guilt over not being able to protect her from being followed. He really needed to stop doing this to himself, but Riza had the feeling that he never would. That along with everything good about Roy, this annoying and frustrating tendency to fill himself with guilt over her well being, was just something that would never disappear.

"You would've hated shopping with me and Becca, and you know it." Riza pointed out. "She was with me, and armed, if anything had happened-"

"-Something did happen, Riza. You were followed by someone who might've been responsible for taking you in the first place."

"Oh, is that what happened? Thank you for spelling it out for me." Riza snapped back at him. "He followed, but he didn't do anything. Let's just be thankful about that, shall we?"

"That's not the point."

"You're not my bodyguard, Roy. I'm yours." Riza said. "Stop feeling guilty over this."

"No, right now, your protection is my priority." Roy said. "And, fine, maybe I do feel guilty, but that's just because I can't lose you again."

Riza softened, still annoyed, but not so much that she couldn't push it to the sidelines of her mind to take his hand and squeeze it gently. She was still here, nothing had happened to her, she wasn't lost. "You won't." Riza promised.

"But-"

"No. I'm not going anywhere. Not again." Riza declared. "We'll find who did this, we'll make them pay for it, okay?"

"Pay how?" Roy asked.

"You're not setting them on fire." Riza said. "I want them to live their entire lives locked away from the world and forgotten by everyone."

"And you called me dramatic earlier."

"You _were_." Riza insisted.

"I wasn't that bad."

Riza put on a deep voice; "And this is how you perform a resurrection." She rolled her eyes and dropped the act. "Dramatic."

Roy snorted with laughter, and the mood that had overtaken him broke into something a little less angry and guilty. "Fine. It was a little dramatic."

"I'm glad you agree." Riza said. "So. What are we going to do?"

Roy shrugged, and sat down on his battered couch, and pulled her down so she was sitting next to him. He looked lost in thought, and she let him ponder whatever it was that was going through his mind. "How would you like a trip to the country?"

"The country?" Riza asked. "Why?"

"I thought we could visit your childhood home, see if you can remember anything from then." He said. "It won't be easy, your childhood wasn't exactly happy. But it would get you out of the city, and hopefully away from prying eyes."

Riza had thought about her childhood, the father that had inked his notes onto her back, and what she might've felt towards him. Now it was just sadness that she couldn't remember him, for good or ill. Answers were never easy, but the bad parts of her life were just as important to remember as everything else. Ishval had taught her that.

"Okay. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." Roy agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

It was dark when they left the house, the sun hadn't even begun to creep over the horizon as they snuck out of his house in silence. Even Hayate seemed to sense the situation and didn't bark or whine as Riza carried him to the car and placed him on blankets on the backseat. They drove through the suburbs with the headlights off, a dangerous but necessary precaution, and only switched them on once they were on the open road and headed towards the country. Even then, Riza kept looking behind them in case someone had followed them towards safety.

It took hours for her to relax, the sun had turned the sky from inky darkness to red, and then finally to light sky blue by the time she felt as if she could breathe freely. Riza knew she wasn't safe yet, that until whoever was behind her disappearance was caught, she'd never be safe, but this far away from East City, she felt like she could breathe without constantly having to look over her shoulder. That feeling of freedom only intensified the further away they got from the city.

Hours went by, and the lush green fields that had been the scenery for most of the way slowly turned into a town. It was small, and felt familiar, but it didn't feel like home. She'd expected her home town to feel different from East City, that it would feel like a place where she belonged, but as she trailed after Roy while he brought them food for their stay, she couldn't help but think that he looked more at ease than she felt in this new place. She kept Hayate close to her, and used it as an excuse not to go into the butchers or the greengrocers, she waited outside for him and watched the crowd for familiar faces that might have followed them here.

They were far away, and she felt free, but she wasn't about to ignore the reality of the situation. Riza was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. At least not as far as personal safety went.

The house itself was out of town, a five minute drive through the country and they pulled up outside it. It was old, and looked like it was still going through some repairs. The roof was new, and the windows, but there was something about the place that made her think it had been left neglected for years before someone started putting it back together. It didn't feel like home either, although she could feel the familiarity of it deep within her bones, like it had been important to her once.

Roy gave her the freedom to wander around the house without interruption. He busied himself in the kitchen, putting the food away, while Riza walked silently through the halls. It had been replastered and painted, it was possible that the electrics had been rewired as well because there was something about the lights that just felt different in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on. One of the rooms was filled with tools, empty save for them and freshly painted walls. Riza left it alone and went on to the next room, and the next.

Riza knew it was her father's study before she opened the door. She knew it the same way she knew how to run or breathe. Just like she knew she'd spent hours waiting outside the room to talk to him when she was young, and then when she was older she had tried to avoid it completely. There was something about the room that made her nervous, apprehensive, and even a little scared. Like she was fourteen again, home for the holidays and terrified about what new depths of madness her father might have found. Roy had kept him from the worst of it, had kept his mind distracted and had given him someone to focus on, and that had kept his insanity at bay. It had become worse after Roy left, and even worse after he had figured out all the tricks to his flame alchemy.

Scared, but willing to face her fear, Riza opened the door. It was empty, apart from the memories.

* * *

Her father holds her tightly, and promises that everything will be okay, that _they'll_ be okay. She's young, but she knows it's a lie. Her mother is dead, how can anything be okay? But her father is crying, his tears dampen the shoulder of her yellow dress, and she hugs him and doesn't argue.

Riza never argued with her father.

The years drift by, and Berthold Hawkeye begins to lock himself away. Obsessed with flames and heat. It's all he thinks about. All he talks about. Riza gets sent away to school, where she's the only one who can recite both the laws of alchemy and thermodynamics. Riza's seven.

Riza shuns alchemy at every turn. Every good natured teacher who thinks she's smart. Every club president who wants her to just 'give it a go'. Riza sneers at them, dismisses them with a harsh look and a comment about how not everyone wants to do things the easy way. Alchemy is her father, alchemy is that boy who lives in her house while she's sent away to boarding school, alchemy is a locked door, alchemy is neglect. Riza Hawkeye wants nothing to do with it.

Roy's not that bad. He's studious, and smarter than her, he likes talking about books, and isn't put off by her sarcastic wit. She softens around him, it's easily done, and she can't help but think that they could've been friends, in a different world, or a different time. A place where he wasn't her father's favoured apprentice, and she wasn't his shunned daughter. It's a shame, she thinks, that they'll never be anything other than those things.

Berthold slips further and further into madness once Roy leaves for the military. Riza leaves school with an education, but finds herself caring for him. She makes sure he eats, that he bathes, that he does more than obsess over his research. Berthold smiles at her one day, thanks her for being a good daughter. She knows she isn't what he wanted. He wanted someone like Roy, someone whip smart and willing to turn lead into gold if it would please him. But right then, for a moment, she feels loved.

Then he asks her for help, and she knows she should say no. But she doesn't.

It burns. Her entire back feels like it's on fire. Riza clenches her hands into fists and tries not to scream as her father pushes the needle beneath the skin, leaving yet another permanent red mark behind. They've been doing this for days. It's a torture that never ends. She sleeps in his study. He brings her broth and water. Then the next day they do it all again.

When it's over, he cries.

Riza doesn't.

* * *

Bile rose in the back of her throat, and Riza rushed to the bathroom, and thankfully got there in time before she lost her breakfast. Afterwards, after she'd rinsed her mouth with water, she sat on the cold tiles with her eyes closed and reminded herself to breathe. They were memories, nothing more. Her father was dead, and the pain was nothing more than a memory. Just a memory.

Hayate scratched at the door, and she waved him away as if he could see her through the wood. He couldn't, and was soon joined by Roy, who had the courtesy to knock before he came into the bathroom. She must've looked awful, because he dropped to his knees and pulled her into his arms.

"Everything okay?" He murmured against her hair.

They'd sat like this before, on the floor, too weak and too tired to care and push him away. She just couldn't remember when.

"I remembered…" She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, he smelled of aftershave and soap and she breathed him in. The feel of his arms wrapped around her, and the warmth from his body against hers. Maybe this is what home felt like? Warmth and safety, and the smell of soap. "I'm okay. I just remembered a lot."

"Your father?" He asked, and a hand went protectively to her back, where the flame alchemy array had been preserved forever.

Riza nodded, and Roy sighed, and shifted around so that he was sitting more comfortably on the bathroom floor. He didn't let go of her, if anything, his grip got tighter. "I wish I could've saved you from him."

"You always want to save me from something." Riza said. "Ishval. My father. Stop trying to save me."

"I can't help it." Roy said. "It's what we do for those we…"

"I know." Riza said.

"You do?"

"Roy, I've got amnesia, but I'm not an idiot." Riza said, and tilted her head up to look him in the eye. "I know how you feel. I know because your actions speak louder than words ever could. I don't know how I feel. Or how I felt. But you? I know."

"Oh."

"I'm not looking for romance, Roy." Riza said, and the sadness in his eyes caused her heart to ache in sympathy. "I'm being followed by a mystery, I'm remembering my life, I'm still finding out who I am. I can't be a… a girlfriend."

"I know. I'm not asking you to be my - do we have to use the term girlfriend?" Roy asked, and his arms loosened around her.

"No. We don't."

"Okay. I'm not asking for that. But to pretend I don't… I can't do that."

"I don't want you to pretend." Riza said. "I'm not looking for romance. There are some things I can't be yet. But I…"

"You what?"

Riza was aware of how close they were. Of the cold tiles beneath them. The warmth of his body so close to hers. The length of his eyelashes. The curve of his mouth. She wasn't looking for romance, and she wasn't herself enough to be there for him the way a partner would be, but he felt like home. He felt safe. He felt like the calm in the middle of a storm. He felt like her heartbeat. Integral to her. As important as the blood within her veins. As the breath in her lungs.

She touched his face, and leaned in, and Roy didn't stop her. Their eyes met, warm brown and piecing black, and she reminded herself to breathe before she closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his. They were soft and gentle, both of them were holding back from the brink of desire. Desire that would've had them moaning each others names against their skin, desire that would've had them naked and writhing beneath each other, desire that they wanted to indulge, but not yet. Not here on the bathroom floor. Now was for kissing, slowly, and gently, testing the waters.

Roy broke away first, and rested his forehead against hers. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, and Riza wouldn't want him to hide it. "Uh." He said. Ever so eloquently.

"Yeah." Riza said.

"That - I didn't expect that." Roy admitted, and ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more.

"I didn't exactly plan it." Riza admitted. "But it seemed like the easiest way to tell you."

"Tell me what, exactly?" He asked. Either he was an idiot, or he was playing at being innocent, Riza thought it was a rather strange combination of the two. Who, other than him, would tease the girl who had just kissed him?

"That I care." Riza said. "That to me, you feel more like home than this place does."

Roy kissed her again, sweet and soft, and yes, this felt like home more than any one place ever had, or ever could.


	9. Chapter 9

The monotony of firearms recertification was over. The day to day monotony of Rebecca's life had been a point of annoyance over recent months, she missed being out in the field and feeling like she was actually making a difference, rather than just checking some guy that sat behind a desk all day could still handle his weapon, and yes, she had heard every possible innuendo it was possible to make about weapons and misfires. However, now it was a welcome distraction from the crazy.

The crazy being Riza coming back from the dead without any memories and then ending up followed by some weirdo, and let's not even talk about the creepy lab she'd taken Jean and Mustang to. Rebecca loved Riza like a sister, but she attracted crazy like no one else Rebecca had ever met in her life. Just look at Mustang.

Rebecca sat at one of the desks in Mustang's outer office and trawled through her share of the files of the soldiers who had been marked as either KIA or MIA on the Promised Day. Mustang's actual team (plus the Elric's) had been going through them all day, while also running the office and apologising for Mustang's sudden leave of absence. The official line was that he was ill, but Rebecca seriously doubted that anyone believed it, especially since gossip about Riza's return was beginning to spread.

File after file, after file, got compared to the grainy photograph of the man who had followed her and Riza around town, sat near them at lunch, and let them carry on with their lives. The thought that he was out there made her skin crawl, and she'd been silently relieved when Jean had offered to stay at hers, and it had given her a sense of security that would've been missing if she'd had to go home alone last night.

They all sat in silence, the sound of ruffling pages, and an occasional thump of files hitting either the floor or the desk were the only noises that filled the room. Eastern HQ slowly emptied as the day staff went home, and the skeleton crew night shift took up their stations, but they sat there until late into the night, when Jean finally pushed his files away.

"I need a break." He said. "I've done nothing but stare at these files all day. I'm done."

"I'm going to keep going." Edward said, not looking up from the file he was looking over. He had a notebook next to him where he'd scribbled some notes down.

"Me too." Alphonse agreed.

"Okay guys, your funeral." Jean said as he stood up and stretched. "I'll take the early shift, Breda. Fuery, don't stay here all night getting wired on coffee."

Rebecca would have kept going forever if she needed to, for Riza, she'd do a lot of things. But Jean had given her an out and she needed sleep, some food, and a hot shower. Not necessarily in that order. So she shrugged her uniform jacket back on, "I'll come as well. Night guys."

Goodbyes and orders given, even half heartedly, and Rebecca and Jean left HQ for her small apartment only twenty minutes walk away. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked along in silence. Everything she wanted to say, every worry about Riza and what was going on, it couldn't be uttered out here in public. They knew now, that anyone could be listening to them, following them through the dark streets of the city to her home. She felt shivers go up her spine at the thought of it, and turned to look behind her just in case.

"No one's following us, princess." Jean said quietly. "You're okay."

"It's not me I'm worried about." Rebecca bristled at being caught out. "It's you. You're a delicate flower after all."

Jean laughed, and kissed the top of her head as they turned the corner onto her street. "Sure, Becca. I'm the one we need to worry about."

Rebecca half heartedly grumbled in response, she knew there was no way to win the argument. She'd been caught being paranoid, and as much as she hated to admit it, he wasn't who either of them were worried about. She was god only knew how many miles away doing god only knew what with Mustang. Rebecca hoped that they were bored, and not up to anything that she'd have to yell at Mustang about later, but she knew they'd both probably end up doing something stupid.

"Xingese food?" Jean asked.

"Huh?"

"Million miles away?" Jean asked.

"I was thinking about - y'know." She waved her hand as if that explained she was worried about Riza, about what she was doing with Mustang, about this guy that had followed them, and about this whole goddamn situation they'd all ended up in. Jean, thankfully, seemed to get it. Or at least seemed to get that it wasn't about him or anything he needed to worry about too much. He pulled her into a quick hug, and she let out a deep breath against his chest.

"How about I grab some food. You go home and do whatever girly shit you do when you get in, and I'll see you in bit?" Jean asked. "I'll get you those spring rolls you like."

"Girly shit?" Rebecca asked, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Okay, fine, you win. Bring food, and who knows you might even get lucky."

"Might?" Jean asked, and wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis, which turned Rebecca's smirk into a full blown smile.

"Depends how good the spring rolls are." Rebecca pointed out. She kissed him quickly and sweetly on the mouth before she headed off to her apartment, and left him in search of food.

Rebecca's apartment was small, but functional, and she'd decorated it with girlish touches and frivolous bits and bobs since she'd moved in. She'd had the apartment since she'd graduated from the Academy, and she'd claimed it was the reason why she didn't follow Fuhrer Grumman to central, because she just had way too much stuff to pack away and the rent here was really reasonable. The truth had been far more complicated. Rebecca didn't want to work in the building her friend had died protecting, she didn't want to look out of a window and think of Riza buried under rubble and dust, and Rebecca knew that Riza would've wanted someone out East to keep an eye on Mustang and his team. She might've wanted to strangle Mustang almost a million times a day back then, but it's what Riza would've wanted.

Now Riza was back, and Rebecca was almost free to decide what she wanted to do next. Once all of this was over, she'd have to decide if she wanted to stay in recertification, or move on to something a little more exciting. A little more real. There was time for that decision later, and it wasn't made any less complicated by having Jean around. Why was life always so fucking complicated?

Rebecca sighed and kicked her boots off, hung up her military jacket and was in the bedroom about to take off her gun holsters and head to the shower when there was a knock on the door.

Someone knocking on her door wasn't weird on it's own, but it was late and Jean had a key ever since that one time she got sloppy drunk and passed out on him. Not her finest moment, but she'd been lost in grief, and he'd looked after her. In fact, he'd pulled her out of her grief kicking and screaming.

Cautiously, Rebecca unholstered one of her guns and went to answer the door. It was probably just the woman from across the hall for some reason, or the little old lady from downstairs who liked to gossip a bit too much, or at least that was what Rebecca tried to tell herself before she opened the door.

It wasn't the woman from across the hall, and it wasn't the little old lady from downstairs. It wasn't even Jean, on the off chance that he'd left his key at his place or the office.

It was the man from the photograph. The man who had followed her and Riza around as they shopped. The man who was after Riza.

Rebecca smiled, and kept her gun out of sight. Jean was on the way, and if things turned nasty before that, she could handle it. She could.

"Hi. Can I help you?" Rebecca asked. She wished she'd kept her boots on. She felt vulnerable standing there in her socks and only half her uniform.

"Maybe." The man smiled. It might've looked charming on anyone else, but on him, it made her skin crawl. "I'm looking for Riza Hawkeye, I haven't been able to find her anywhere, and I thought you might be able to help me."

"I don't know where she is, sorry." Rebecca said. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, and she had to try to keep calm, keep friendly, keep nonthreatening.

"That wasn't the kind of help I meant."

He tried to barge his way in just as Rebecca tried to slam the door on his face, and he grunted as the door instead made contact with his foot before bouncing back against the wall with a loud thud. Rebecca backed up quickly, she'd been field certified long before she'd taken her crappy desk job, and some things were instinctive. Some moves were buried in her bones and muscle, some training couldn't be extinguished by years behind a desk. The problem was she didn't want to kill him. She had the shot, and this closely a blind invalid could've made it, but she wanted him alive. They needed him alive.

Jean could've taken him out easily, so could Breda, and the Elrics, if they were here. They weren't though, and it was just her against this brute.

He got the first hit, knocked her off her feet and into the wall. Her ears rang and there were stars floating in front of her eyes and she waved her pistol around to get him to back up. Luckily he didn't want to get shot any more than she wanted to kill him. Blood trickled down her face, although she couldn't feel the pain yet, and she spun the gun around so that she could hit him with the butt of it and hopefully knock him out.

"What the fuck?!" Jean's voice rang across the corridor and through her open door, and the main spun to look at him.

Jean was a bigger threat, and would get in the way of whatever the fuck he was trying to do, so Rebecca wasn't surprised when he headed towards him. She took her chance, and whacked the butt of her gun across the back of his head, he made a startled grunt before he fell to the floor. It was remarkably easy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Becca, are you okay?" Jean's hands were on her face, probing at her forehead. She must've cut it when she hit the wall. "Becca, baby? What happened?"

"He was looking for Riza." Rebecca said. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing fast. Left over adrenaline from the fight was pumping through her veins even though she didn't need it anymore. "Is he breathing, I didn't want to kill him."

Jean held her hand tightly, not letting go for a second as he checked the man had survived his meeting with the unorthodox end of her gun. "Yeah, he's alive. Don't worry about him."

Rebecca nodded. They needed to call this in, she needed to wipe the blood off her face, they needed to tell Mustang and Riza what had happened, and they needed to get this guy somewhere where they could get him to talk.

"Come on, Jean, we've got work to do." She said. Her hands might still be shaking, and once they'd done all they needed to, she was going to have a long cry and eat more chocolate than the human body could handle. Right now though, they had a lead, and she wasn't about to let it slip through her fingers.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been hours, but she could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, and the ghost of his touch lingered on her skin like a memory that wouldn't fade even as she tried to distract herself. She kept thinking about his hand on her waist, and in her hair, the way his lips moved beneath hers, and the feel of his body as she tried to get closer. They'd broken apart, and moved away from each other before things could get out of control. As if they weren't already out of control. As if kissing on the bathroom floor wasn't already ridiculous and the last thing they should've been doing. As if neither of them would be thinking about what had just happened, and where it could have lead.

Riza had wondered if they'd done that before, if they'd given into their feelings in a moment of weakness, or if that was the first time. In the end, it didn't matter if it was the first time or the thousandth, they shouldn't have crossed that line. She shouldn't want to do it again and again, she should be focusing on trying to get her memories back, and not daydreaming about how Roy would feel beneath her.

To distract herself from fantasy, she'd poked around the house some more. Her old bedroom was almost the same. Cleaner, with a new coat of paint on the walls, but the small bed was still against the far wall, under the window, and her old clothes still hung in the wardrobe. Old dresses and tops that she couldn't wear after the tattoo, for fear it would poke out of the top and reveal her fathers secrets to the world. Now she couldn't wear them because she wasn't sixteen anymore, and even if she wanted to, she was fairly certain they wouldn't fit.

Her desk still stood in the corner, books would have been piled up on it when she was younger, a mixture of indulgent fiction and books for school that she'd brought home for the holidays. She'd have put them on the bed whenever she needed to do her homework, she'd have chosen to hide away in her room from her father and his apprentice. Times had obviously changed. Riza opened the desk drawers, there was a half empty bottle of whiskey next to a couple of dozen sealed envelopes, all with her name scrawled on them in Roy's handwriting.

"Oh Roy…" She whispered to herself, and closed the drawer. Even with his grief locked away and out of sight, it weighed heavily on her. Riza didn't know Roy like she should have, like she had before, but she knew him well enough to know the half empty bottle wasn't the first, and that the letters came later. After the determination to get her back (there must have been some, surely?), after the rage, and after the drinking, then there would have been the private sadness. The grief he would have tried to keep hidden, but would have taken him over completely.

Riza knew him well enough to know that's what probably happened, and his grief weighed heavy on her. Maybe she wasn't the only one confused and distracted by the kiss they'd shared. Maybe he was fighting his own emotions just like she was fighting hers. There was little point in mentioning her discovery to him, he could keep his personal grief to himself, it was his to share with her if he wanted to. It was enough to know it existed at all.

She closed the bedroom door behind her, and headed downstairs to be in his company. Yes, he was distracting, and it tempted her to cross a line that she shouldn't have gotten so close to, that she shouldn't have pressed her lips against. But maybe he needed to have her around, to be reminded of her presence. That she was here. That she was alive.

Riza was halfway down the stairs when the lights went out.

* * *

Another day, another safe house. Rebecca's face and head throbbed painfully, but she wasn't about to be left behind as if she was some kind of damsel in distress, no way. She stuck a plaster over the cut on her head after she wiped away the blood, and then helped the boys bundle Weird and Creepy into the back of the car Breda had borrowed from work. Once he was secured in one of the rooms, cuffed to a chair with Breda, Ed, and Al keeping watch while Fuery hooked up recording equipment, Jean dragged her off to the bathroom.

"Sit." Jean ordered. Rudely.

Rather than sitting on the edge of the bath, like she would have if he asked nicely, Rebecca folded her arms in front of her chest and gave him her best incredulous What Did You Just Say To Me? Look. Instead of baking down, which any sensible man would have, he mirrored her pose, only infuriating her more.

"What's your problem?" Rebecca asked, her annoyance seeping into every syllable.

"I don't have a problem, but I need to clean that cut." At least if he was annoyed, he didn't sound it.

"Well you don't need to order me about like I'm Hayate."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you - are we really doing this right now?" Rebecca asked. "While there's a perp downstairs and we have bigger things to deal with?"

At the mention of Weird and Creepy, Jean bristled, and turned away from her to the bathroom cabinet and dug around until he found the first aid kit. When he turned back to her and jerked his head in the direction of the bath, to get her to sit on the edge, she refused and took a step closer to him.

"I'll stand." She said defiantly.

Rebecca was directly in his personal space, and glaring at him, but he kept whatever was bothering him in his head, for a change, and went to work on treating her wound. It was smaller than she thought it would've been, but head wounds always bled a lot, and she hissed in pain as he cleaned it.

"Ouch."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it just stung a bit." Rebecca said, and Jean nodded before he placed a fresh plaster over the cut.

"I think you'll live."

"Probably." Rebecca agreed. "So, you gonna talk about what's eating you, or do I need to start guessing until you open up?"

Jean was close enough that she could smell him, cigarette smoke, sweat, and aftershave. She could reach out and brush her fingers against him, she could lean in and kiss him, she could hold him in her arms, and if he got stupid and annoying, he was close enough for her to slap.

"He could've killed you, Becca," Jean whispered. It was as if the idea had entered his head and floated around in it, eating away at him, until he was forced to speak it allowed. Rebecca softened, the tension fell from her shoulders and her annoyance seeped away as if it had never been there. Of course he would get worried and idiotic about what had just happened.

"Well. Yeah, but so could training with the guys from Briggs, but we still do it." She pointed out, and slid her fingers between his. "I'm okay, Jean."

"I know." He wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her close, so her body was flush against his, and she felt him kiss the top of her head lovingly. "But I can't help-"

"Stop it." Rebecca insisted. She looked up at him and dragged her hands up his arms - Rebecca loved his arms - and wound them around his neck. "I'm okay, Jean."

"But what if he'd just shot you instead of trying to kidnap you or whatever?" He asked, a note of panic rising in his voice. "I love you, Rebecca, I can't lose you like that."

Rebecca smiled warmly, and stood up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his gently. "I'm okay, Jean." She assured him. "Now, let's go and get this guy to talk, so we can go home and I can show you how alive I am."

Jean chuckled, and kissed her heatedly, passionately, it was a kiss with promise for much, much more later. It didn't last long, but it left her knees weak and her skin flushed with desire. It left her wanting his hands on her skin, and his mouth on hers, preferably in a comfortable bed while wearing absolutely nothing. "Promises, promises, princess." He mumbled against her lips.

"I always keep my promises." Rebecca said. "Now let's get this guy to talk."

* * *

Ed leaned against the wall and looked at the captured man. He was blonde, which wasn't really shocking considering how many people in the country had that hair colour. In fact, the man looked completely unremarkable. There was no way, in Ed's mind, that he'd been responsible for any of this bullshit. A pawn? Sure, he could see that. But a mastermind? Ed was pretty sure masterminds didn't get knocked out after going to try to kidnap people.

Not unless they were really shitty masterminds, and someone that kept Riza Hawkeye locked away for a couple of years wasn't going to be a shitty mastermind, there was no way they would've been able to keep her that long if they were this stupid. So, he had to be a henchman of some sort.

At least it was a lead, he had to remind himself. An unconscious lead, sure, but that wouldn't last forever. Soon he'd wake up, and then he'd have to talk.

The clock ticked by, and eventually the guy groaned. Show time.

* * *

Rebecca sat next to Fuery, ice pressed against her face in a vain attempt to stop the bruise from forming. He'd given her a headset to listen in on what was going on in the other room. Breda and Ed playing good cop/bad cop. Or, well, really it was bad cop/worse cop. It didn't take long for the guy to break and start spilling secrets. About how he'd helped target Riza in the first place, how his boss had told him to, how they'd try to brainwash her into fighting for _them_ (although he was a bit hazy on who exactly 'them' were), how she'd resisted. How she'd fought. How she'd battled against them every step of the fucking way until they'd tried to wipe her memory to start again.

Maybe if she didn't remember a life before, she'd be more compliant. Instead, Riza had ran, like a scared animal, she'd fought and battled her way out of there and straight into Jean. So they'd followed her, to make sure she didn't remember anything about them.

It all seemed fruitless, now that he was spilling his guts to them.

She took off the headset, proud of her sister in arms, but unable to listen to anymore about her confinement or their plans for her.

"Has anyone been able to get a hold of Mustang and Riza?" She asked the others in the room; Fuery shook his head, as did Al and Jean.

"They're out in the sticks and it's late. Might be that they're busy-" Jean waggled his eyebrows, and Rebecca rolled her eyes. "-Or it could be that the phoneline's out. It happens more out in bumfuck nowhere than in the city."

"We should keep trying. They need to know all about this." Rebecca insisted.

"Don't worry, baby, we are."

* * *

Roy came back into the house, and took his ignition gloves and shoved them into his pocket. "Nothing out there, must just be a powercut." He explained, and Riza felt the tension disappear. From the second the lights had gone out she'd been worried that someone had cut the power, that her captors were here to take her back, but it wasn't that at all. Just a power cut out in the country, not unusual, and not remotely noteworthy.

Riza nodded, "Do you have candles?" She asked.

Together they gathered up some candles, stumbling into each other occasionally in the dark, his hands rested on her waist to steady her and Riza had to remind herself to step away from him, and not towards. It was harder in the living room, surrounded by nothing but candlelight, not to slide up to him and kiss him tenderly.

While Riza sat on the couch next to him, her feet tucked up under her, she tried not to sit so close that temptation would become too great. Even if it was always there. It was getting ridiculous, this desire for him that she was trying to keep under control.

"Why did you decide to restore the house?" She broke the tension, and the silence, between them.

"Penance." Roy admitted. "I got the idea from rebuilding Ishval. It's not the same, obviously, but I lost you and nothing I could do would change that. I thought that maybe rebuilding this place with my hands would make losing you easier."

Nothing could make losing her easier, was what went unsaid. It would always be painful, and hard, just like the thought of losing him took the air from her lungs and turned her blood to ice. The thought was unfathomable.

"What were you going to do with it?" She asked. "Retirement out to the country isn't your style."

"I thought about giving it to Havoc and Catalina if they ever got married." Roy admitted. "Or giving it to someone that needed it. It doesn't matter though, because it's yours."

"I don't need a house out in the country, Roy." She said. "My place isn't here. It's never been here."

"So where is it?" He asked.

"With you," Riza said. "Always."

Roy's hand brushed against her leg, and she leaned closer to him. Their lips touched, and this time it wasn't sweet or gentle, it was needy and hungry, demanding proof that she was alive, and here, and in his arms. There were thousands of reasons why she shouldn't have kissed him back with enthusiasm, but there was a good reason that beat all of them. She wanted to.

Riza wanted to kiss him, she wanted to pull his shirt off of him and run her hands over his skin, she wanted to bask in him, and she wanted to love him, and prove to him that she was here and whole and alive. She wanted his mouth on hers, and his hands on her thighs and her breasts, she wanted _him_. Right then, everything else was inconsequential.

"Riza... " He moaned against her neck before kissing it. "Are you sure you want-"

"Upstairs." Riza interrupted, making her intentions _very_ clear. "We should go upstairs. To a bedroom."

Roy nodded, and they extinguished the candles before going to his bedroom together.


	11. Chapter 11

Everything had happened rather quickly. From the moment she woke up, sleepy and satisfied, morning sunshine across her face and Roy's arm curled around her protectively. He had worshiped her the night before, where his hands had wandered his mouth had followed, and he'd declared his feelings for her with his tongue against her skin. There had been no words uttered, none of meaning beyond instruction, laughter, and lustful moans that neither of them had been able to contain. Riza had just tried to assure him that she was there, real, whole, and filled with longing. Longing to remember, for safety, for home, and mostly for him. She'd scraped her fingernails down his back, dug her fingers into his arms, and it had been his name on her lips as she tipped over the edge again, and again.

In the morning, everything changed. Their peace together, naked and warm, and loving. It was shattered with a single phone call.

They had found the man that had followed her and Rebecca around town, they finally had something to go on, something that could maybe explain what she'd been doing there in that lab, what their purpose for her had been. Something that could lead them to the people responsible for taking away years of her life.

There hadn't been much of a discussion, they'd just gone through the house and picked up what few things they'd unpacked, then got back into his car and started the drive back to East City. A single night in the country had given her the bitter memories of her father, of a love that she'd been desperate to receive, to know she was valued and that he was proud, but it had never come to fruition. He'd never said the words, and he never would. It was a dull pain within her chest that had been chased away by Roy.

They'd both been so young when they'd met, flesh and blood ghosts in a house falling apart. Barely speaking to one another until her father had died, and she shared her secrets with him. From there a friendship, disappointment, anger, loyalty, and love had grown. Riza just wasn't sure what sort of love, but she knew that it was there, in her blood and bones, ingrained onto her very soul.

The night before wasn't mentioned, but they were content and happy, sitting in the car next to one another without feeling awkward. She'd been clear with him, she couldn't be his girlfriend. Not now. Not while her past was a puzzle she was putting together piece by piece, while so much of her life was a mystery together. It was unfair, but she was honest. If she'd thought about it before, she would have expected something between them to feel awkward or different, but it didn't. Maybe they had done this before, a night together followed by acting as if nothing had happened. Or maybe it just didn't matter. They were already tied together so completely, that sex had no ability to change anything. Or maybe it just hadn't sunk in yet, and that the adrenaline of running towards a lead stopped them from feeling anything else.

Once they arrived back in East City, they stopped at his house. Roy wanted to change into his uniform to look suitably intimidating, and Riza's fingers itched for a gun. Not to shoot the man, but to feel like her own defence was in her hands.

Everything changed once they got out of the car.

The hairs on the back of Riza's neck stood up, and she turned and saw the glint of light hitting the scope and she reacted before her brain could comprehend what had happened. She knocked Roy to the floor, and found herself on her back, pain shooting through her body.

Hayate was barking.

People were shouting.

Roy's hands were pressed against her side.

Roy was talking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Her hands shook.

Hayate was barking.

* * *

Rebecca was mildly concerned about the look on Breda's face. He was the brains of the bunch, and when he looked nervous, she got nervous. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep making her anxious, she didn't want to think about how long it had been since she'd been curled up in her nice, soft, warm bed, regardless it was far too long.

" _What_?" She eventually asked him, annoyed.

"Don't you think this is all a little easy?" He asked, he waved his arm in the direction of the living room, which had been turned into a makeshift interrogation suite. It was Jean and Al's turn to watch The Creep, leaving the rest of them to do what they wanted. Ed had fallen asleep somewhere, and the two of them were getting some coffee in the tiny kitchen.

"Yes, smashing his face with my gun after he smashed my face with my wall was _so_ easy." Rebecca complained. Her face still hurt, and would be a throbbing, dull ache for a while.

"Not what I meant," He pointed out. "Look, these guys hid themselves for two years in the same city as us. They hid Hawkeye right under our noses. Now one of them just walks into your apartment and gets captured, then spills enough info to make him worth calling Mustang about? Doesn't that seem weird to you?"

"What, like this is all some kind of trap?" Rebecca tried to ignore the feeling of ice cold dread that was beginning to wash over her. The more he said, the more she thought about it, the more it made some horrible kind of sense.

"It just seems a bit easy." Breda said. "Don't you think?"

"Well, sure." Rebecca agreed. "I mean, he said he wanted to use me to get to Riza. We all thought that meant kidnapping me, but what if it meant something else?"

"A ruse to get them here?"

"Yeah, but for what?" Rebecca asked.

"I dunno, but someone should head over to Mustang's, just in case."

"Then let's go."

Rebecca and Breda arrived to chaos. That was the only way to describe it. They'd both seen worse during their time im the military, but blood on a quiet suburban street was enough to shock them both for a brief moment. There was an ambulance, and a crowd of people that Breda and Rebecca barged their way through. Mustang was at the centre of it, blood on his hands and shirt, smears of it on his face.

"What the fuck?!" Rebecca exclaimed. Loudly. "Where's Riza?"

"They're taking her to General." Mustang said. "Shots were fired from over there-" He pointed to a building across the street "-but I haven't had time to-"

"I'm on it." Breda interjected. There was no glance between them, but Rebecca knew that meant she was babysitting the General.

"What happened to Riza?" Rebecca asked again. The feeling of dread had seeped into her skin now. Ice cold and certain that something awful had happened. General Hospital was the closest, and even though it didn't sound like it, one of the best in East City. That was good, if something had happened to her, she'd get there quickly and she'd be fine. Right?

"Someone shot her." His voice was hollow. Empty. Rebecca was reminded of how he was in the aftermath of Riza's memorial. Walking through the motions, throwing himself into work and drink, and misery.

"But she's okay?" Rebecca prompted.

"They're taking her to the hospital." Mustang said. "I should be there."

"Yeah, you should." Rebecca spat out at him, anger rose inside her and replaced the dread. She wasn't cold anymore, she was burning hot, and pissed off. "Maybe while you're there you could think about doing a better job of protecting her."

There was a teeny, tiny voice inside her head, which sounded an awful lot like Riza, that told her she was being unfair. That yelling at Mustang wouldn't make anything better, that it wouldn't take back the bullet that had lodged itself inside her best friend, and that in the long run it wouldn't make her feel any better.

Rebecca Catalina firmly told that voice to _shut up_.

"I didn't just _let_ her get shot!" Mustang insisted.

"Oh really? So why isn't she here and telling me to watch my mouth?" Rebecca countered. "You were supposed to keep her safe and now she's-"

Her eyes burned, but she didn't want to cry. Especially not in front of _him_. But she was tired, and sore, and scared, and she couldn't help it. She cracked and crumbled, and Mustang was _hugging_ her, his bloodied hands patting her back awkwardly as she sobbed harshly against his shoulder. She wished Jean was here instead, it was his comfort she wanted, not Mustang's. But he wasn't here, and Mustang was. "I know, Catalina. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He mumbled just loud enough for her to hear. "You're right. I should've protected her."

"We can't lose her." Rebecca said, although it came out mixed with sobs and she was surprised he even caught her meaning. "I can't go through that again."

"Me either." Mustang admitted. And held her until her sobs turned to hiccups and she broke away from his embrace and wiped her face.

"Tell no one this happened." Rebecca insisted, once she was calm enough to speak. "I'm going to help Breda, then we're going to the hospital. The others are in Safehouse three."

"I'll fill them in."

* * *

Riza didn't dream while they tried to repair her damaged body. What she saw weren't dreams. They weren't the surreal imaginings of her subconscious turned into a strange reality that would pass upon waking and disappear into the part of the mind that stored such things, never to be recalled.

No. Riza didn't dream.

Riza remembered.

The moments of her life that had been foggy became clear, moments that had been forgotten to experimentation returned. Riza's life played out for her like a movie in her mind. She remembered her childhood, her father, her decision to join the military, meeting Rebecca, her first kill, her time in Ishval, her time with Roy, her time as his adjutant, the Promised Day, and everything in between.

She remembered what they did to her. How they tried to turn her into a killing machine for some discarded military officer with too much money, charisma, and time. She remembered how she didn't break. How she clung to the Colonel's last order, even when she'd forgotten his face and her own name. How they took that from her, and she broke loose.

Riza remembered everything.


	12. Chapter 12

Red water swirled around the white sink before it disappeared. It wasn't the first time he'd washed blood from his hands, real or metaphorical, and it wasn't the first time it was hers either. There'd been scraped elbows and knees as children, climbing trees in the grounds of her father's estate, missions gone south in Ishval and beyond, and there had been the promised day. Dozens of occasions where her blood had ended up on his hands, a less than a handful where it had been bad enough to cause his clothes to stick to his skin.

It so rarely got this bad. He should've seen it coming. He should've known. Been more careful. He should have stayed at the Hawkeye estate with her, let Havoc and Breda deal with it. They were capable enough, and with the Elric's and Catalina involved there was no reason they had needed to come back. It had been a stupid decision, fuelled by desperation for answers and for all of this to be over.

Roy was going to make sure it was over, one way or another.

He washed the last of the blood from his hands, splashed cold water on his face, and changed into the clean uniform Havoc had brought him. Roy smoothed his hair back with wet hands, and he took a moment to breathe, to compose a demeanor to fit the moment. Worry, but not too much. Determination, but not obsession. It was a comforting mask that he placed over himself, and it was familiar, because this is how he had acted after Hughes.

Roy stepped out the hospital bathroom and came face to face with Catalina and Havoc, her eyes were red with tears.

"Sir?" Havoc asked.

"You said you had the man who followed the Lieutenant and Riza in custody?"

"Yeah, he was singing like a canary, which, uh, might've been a bit of a trap." Havoc looked apologetic, his hand rubbed the back of his neck, and before Roy could wave it away, Catalina jumped into the conversation.

"It's not like he handed out an embossed invitation, no one knew until it was too late." She insisted.

Roy nodded. "I'm not looking to place blame. I want to speak to him. Now." There was no arguing with his tone, and even Catalina - annoying, argumentative, antagonizing - Catalina, didn't say a word in response.

* * *

If someone had told him, a year and a half ago when he'd been promoted to Captain and was made General Mustang's adjutant, that this was what he'd have to deal with, Jean Havoc was pretty sure he'd have a) laughed in their face, and b) he'd have made Breda do it. Whatever was about to happen was _not_ going to be good, and he didn't want to be the only thing standing between General Mustang and the low life they had in custody.

Hawkeye would've known what to do, how far to let Mustang push it, what to say to cool his fucking tits. But Havoc only had an inkling about what was about to go down - he'd heard what he'd done to Lust, and while Ed had been mostly tight lipped about what had happened with Envy, he, Breda and Fuery had put it all together eventually - and he had no desire to see that kind of alchemy in action.

Sure. Havoc would cover for him if he lost his cool, that wasn't in question.

The problem was this wasn't Mustang about to lose his temper.

Mustang was in complete control.

And it scared the fuck out of him.

The drive to the safe house was tense, and silent. Havoc had tried making conversation. He'd asked about his plans, he'd tried to reassure him that Hawkeye would be fine, that it would take more than a bullet to… y'know. It had been met with silence, and terse nods. After that, he'd given up, and let the silence take over. Whatever had settled over Mustang wasn't about to be shaken off by him.

* * *

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

Ed had put himself in front of the door that lead to the room they'd dumped the guy in, blocking General Jackass's way. Al stood beside him, and even Havoc had moved away from the usual lacky flanking position to Ed's other side, as if he sensed trouble and had no desire to go against them. Good. Someone around here actually had an iota of fucking sense.

"Fullmetal, move out of the way. I want to have a word with our guest."

"No you fucking don't." Ed snapped, he hated the use of his former alchemist title, and Mustang fucking knew it. "I've seen that look before, and I'm not letting you go in there to pull whatever bullshit you're actually thinking about."

"I didn't realise you'd perfected mind reading." Mustang spat back.

"I've seen that look before, under Central." Ed said. "Hawkeye wouldn't want you to go in there like that."

"Because of that man in there, R- Hawkeye isn't in a position to tell anyone what she wants them to do."

"We all know she'd kick your ass for this." Ed tilted his head up stubbornly to glare at him. It was as if the years hadn't passed, and Ed was still a kid trying to make up for his mistakes and working under his command. "You know she'd kick your ass for this."

For a moment, it looked like Mustang might punch him - it wouldn't be the first time - but his shoulders sagged ever so slightly and he turned away. "Find out where their base is." Was his last barked order before he went outside, the door slammed behind him in both anger and frustration.

"That could've gone better." Al pointed out. "I told you to let me do the talking."

"Nah, you're too nice."

"He was going to punch you." Al pointed out.

"I've had worse." Ed said. "Winry with a wrench is way scarier than that."

He couldn't help feeling relieved though. As shitty as General Fuck Face could be, Ed didn't want to get into a fight with him - not that he couldn't win, he just didn't want to - and he didn't want to see him and Al get into it alchemically either. That wouldn't help them, or Hawkeye. Fuck, he hoped she was going to be okay.

"Let's just get this information."

* * *

Everything hurt. No, that wasn't true. Her head hurt, her side, her stomach, her back, and, yes, almost everything hurt. She was thirsty, her mouth dry and sticky, like she'd just got back from patrol in Ishval. She wasn't hot though. The room was cool.

Slowly, Riza opened her eyes. And then closed them against the harsh light.

"Riza?" Rebecca's voice was soft, questioning.

This was wrong. Where was the Colonel - no, he was a General now. Riza had to remind herself, she'd missed so much during her two years in captivity. Two years behind cell doors, two years of keeping her mouth shut, and hoping something would change so she'd get out. It had, eventually.

"I hate getting shot." Riza mumbled, and opened her eyes again. She blinked against the light until it didn't hurt to keep them open. At least _something_ didn't hurt.

"To tell you the truth, we're not much fond of it either." Becca smiled, brilliant and bright, and it hurt how much Riza had missed that. Her best friends smile.

"That's a relief." Riza said. "Where's the General?"

"Ugh, you know what he's like. He went off with Jean to interrogate the prisoner. Left me her with you."

"Where's everyone else?" Riza asked.

"Breda's checking out the crime scene, the Elric's and Fuery are at the house. Why?" Rebecca asked. "Riza what's going on? Why are you - wait. You. Oh. My. God."

"Oh your god what?" Riza asked.

"You're you. Again. You wake up from surgery, after being shot, and the first thing you do is ask about that idiot again. It's not about what happened, or how you are, it's about the stupid General." Rebecca said, very quickly. "Do you…"

"Remember?" Riza asked. "Yeah. I think so. There are gaps, but I remember."

Rebecca stared at her for a moment that felt like it would last forever, before she hugged her - thankfully, gently - "I'm so- I should get someone to check you over now you're awake, and I should call Jean and tell them."

Riza shook her head. "Don't."

Riza knew the General, she knew Roy, as intimately as she knew herself. She knew his moods, what was likely to set off his temper, what would make him smile, what would cause him to roll his eyes. Riza knew how he'd react to this, to her lying on the hard concrete of the road and bleeding out all over his hands. It would only be worse if she had died, if there was no one to pull him back from the edge that he always skirted along.

Giving him the secret to flame alchemy was something she would never forgive herself for. Not just for what he'd done with it, for all the people he'd killed. There was something about the flame that was poison, and she'd served it up to him.

"I need you to get me some clothes, and guns."

"What?" Rebecca asked. "I can't do that, you've just been - "

"Please, Becca, I need you to trust me and do this." Riza said. "I think I know what the General's going to do, and I can't let him do it alone. I need to watch his back."


End file.
